


Money Can't Buy Happiness

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, M/M, Romance, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-29
Updated: 2003-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a secret in the Luthor family so horrible that it can get Lex killed if he ever reveals it. What will happen when Clark gets too close to discovering the truth? Will he be able to save Lex from the secrets of his own family?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Money Can't Buy Happiness

## Money Can't Buy Happiness

by Wiccan Moonlight Faery

[]()

* * *

I remember once, when I was young, someone told me that rich people always have something that they would be willing to trade all of their money for. Something that they wanted more than anything. 

As I sat in Lex's library that day, I couldn't even remember who said that to me, or when. I don't know why the memory chose that moment to rise up and bite me. I don't know why the indistinguishable voice was echoing through my head. But, for whatever reason, the memory did come up, leaving me with a small snapshot in my life that I could barely remember. 

I can recall asking why a person so rich would be willing to just give it up like that. I remember thinking that if _I_ ever got that much money, I wouldn't ever trade it for anything. And I can also quite vividly remember the response. 

"Because people with that much money are used to getting what they want. But often, the thing that they crave most is something that can not simply be purchased. Something that, with all their wealth, they can not obtain." 

On second thought, maybe I read it in a book or something, for it did not sound as if it came from anyone that I knew from Smallville. It sounded like something that someone had spent hours perfecting, so that they could share it with the world, not something that my mom or dad thought of when I asked about rich people. 

But sitting in the same room s Lex, watching him, I had to wonder if that was true. I could never imagine my best friend giving up all his money for anything, no matter what he would receive in return. He would probably die if he owned less than six cars at one time, or if he had to live without suits that cost more than my entire wardrobe. 

I debated for a second not asking Lex if this comment about rich people was true, but automatically thought against it. I was far too inquisitive. Maybe Chloe was finally rubbing off on me. She had been going on for years about releasing my inner nosy reporter, and maybe she was finally succeeding. 

"Hey Lex?" I questioned. 

"Yes Clark?" Lex replied, looking up just enough to meet my eyes. I loved how Lex always did that. He talked to me exactly the opposite of the way that most people did. People figured that since I grew up on a farm, I was completely ignorant, but Lex treated me like a person of depth and substance. Like I always had something valuable to say. It was not something that most people would expect out of Lex Luthor, but then again, I knew better. 

I decided to cut right to the chase. "Is there anything that you would ever trade all your money for?" 

I can tell that Lex is surprised by my question, though he keeps it carefully hidden. His face hardly ever falters from the unreadable mask he keeps on. But I have learned to read some of Lex's non-expressions, and he is surprised. 

"What prompts the question, Clark?" Lex asks coolly, leaning back slightly in his desk chair. 

I recognize this too. It is one of Lex's smooth ways of trying to avoid questions that he either does not want to or does not know how to answer. Usually, from that, Lex finds a way to steer the conversation away from the question, until the person that asked can't even remember what their question had been. I had fallen for it too many times. 

"I was just remembering that someone once told me that rich people always have something that they would be willing to exchange all their money for. I was wondering if that was true." 

"Ah," Lex said. I waited for him to say more, but he just looked thoughtfully into the distance, focusing his eyes on something that I couldn't see. He seemed to be lost in thought. After a long pause, Lex finally spoke. "Well, I suppose that's true, Clark. It is human nature for people to want things that they don't, or can't have." 

Lex could do that at times as well. When asked a specific question about himself, he would give answer about everyone else. And as much as I enjoyed Lex's revelations about human nature, all of his pseudo-answers were starting to make me very curious. Was it true that Lex would never be willing to give up his money? Or was there another reason why Lex was casually dancing around the issue? 

"Well, we humans sure are funny creatures," I joked. I was rewarded by one of Lex's little half-smiles. "But I wasn't asking about humans in general, Lex. I was asking about _you_." 

Lex's smile faded the tiniest bit, as he tapped his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. "I'm not sure, Clark," Lex answered finally. "I never really thought about it. I find that it's best not to dwell on such things." 

That was lie. I could tell that too. I was always surprised at Lex's ability to come up with lies in seconds - _and_ make them completely believable. It was true that I had to lie quite a bit myself, but mine were nowhere near as smooth as Lex's. Lying seemed to be second nature to him. I sometimes thought that Lex practiced telling lies, like some people practiced speeches, in front of the mirror to perfect it. It seemed plausible, since lying and giving speeches seemed to be of equal priority in the Luthor household. 

"Really?" I questioned. "Never, not once in your twenty-one years of living have you wanted something so much that you would be willing to give up everything for it?" 

Lex now knew that I was onto his lie. "Well, if you're fishing for compliments, I would have been willing to give up all my money for the friendship that we have now, if I could. But then again, most of the family's money belongs to my father, not me. Thankfully, you didn't make me do that," Lex answered, his voice filled with distaste from speaking about his father. He looked as if just saying the words left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. 

I looked at Lex incredulously. "Our friendship really means that much to you?" 

"Our friendship means everything to me, Clark. I hope you'd say the same." 

I could read the subtle undertones of his statement. What Lex was really saying was, _Please_ _tell_ _me_ _that_ _our_ _friendship_ _means_ _as_ _much_ _to_ _you_ _as_ _it_ _does_ _to_ _me_. What Lex was saying was something that, out of anyone else's mouth would sound pitiful and needy. But, of course, Luthors were never pitiful or needy. Instead, Lex made the words sound elegant and refined, as did everything he said. 

"Of course, Lex," I assured him. "But this is billions of dollars we are talking about. You'd really be willing to trade all that?" 

"You asked, Clark. Not me." 

"Wow," I whispered more to myself than anyone else. I had never thought that I would mean that much to _anyone_ , especially not to the son of a multi-billionaire. In fact, if someone had told me a year ago that I would be sitting in a stone castle, sharing deep conversation with a rich, twenty-one year old bald guy that also happened to be my best friend, I would have said that they were crazy. 

Yet here I was. 

I didn't even realize that the topic was going to be continued until Lex spoke again. "My friends mean a lot to me, Clark. You should know that by now." 

"You don't have very many friends, do you?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

Lex chuckled softly. It took me by surprise because I couldn't recall ever hearing Lex laugh before. "I've found that most people who want to be friends with me have ulterior motives. They either want sex, money, or power." 

"Oh," I said quietly. Lex was too young to be this cynical. I wondered if all the Luthors developed their cynicism this early in life. Though, I didn't know if I could live knowing that no one wanted to be friends with me because of who I actually was. Everybody that knew Lex only saw the name Luthor and immediately assumed that he was exactly like his father. I didn't know if I would be able to handle that. But Lex was a stronger person than I was, and he had put up with it for most of his life. "Well, I promise that I'm not friends with you just because I want sex." 

Lex smiled at me. "That's a comfort, Clark. _Really_." 

This time, I laughed as well. I only wished that the people of Smallville could see Lex now. See that he was a normal person, and that he wasn't heading a huge plot to bring the town to the ground. 

Of course, I knew that the whole town wasn't here to see Lex now. However, I was and I knew Lex. "So, anything else you would be willing to trade all your money for?" I asked, steering the conversation back to the original topic. 

"I don't know. A new father, maybe." 

I looked up at Lex, hoping to see a joke in those words, but his eyes showed only truth and pain. I hated this, possibly even more than the fact that everyone judged Lex before they actually knew him. There shouldn't be that much animosity in one family. Families were supposed to love each other. But the Luthors were different. 

"Lex, I--" 

"Clark, don't. It's okay. I shouldn't have even said anything. But you can't do anything about it. _You're_ not my father." 

"I know," I answered simply. Though I felt really horrible about the whole situation, I knew that Lex was right; there was nothing I could do to make it better. Lionel Luthor was a cold-hearted bastard, and no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't change that fact. 

Lex interrupted my thoughts. "If you grow up like I did, Clark, there is something that you have to learn early on," he said to me. 

I met Lex's eyed once again. "What's that?" I asked. 

"Money can't buy happiness." 

* * *

Lex sat at the desk in the library, staring aimlessly at a report. He only just realized that he had read the same paragraph eight times, and it still wasn't making any sense. His head was pounding, from a headache that had been escalating to this level nearly all day. Bringing one hand up, he began to rub slow circles on his temple. 

This had not been a good day. Lex had not even talked to Clark for two days, since their strange conversation about the nature of rich people. And those days without Clark were beginning to become pure torture. Clark was the only person in the whole damn town that accepted Lex for who he was. He didn't judge him because he was rich, didn't think he was a freak because he was bald, and didn't despise him because of the name Luthor. And spending those days without his friend was once again making him feel like an outsider in a town out to get him. It wasn't a very nice feeling. 

And this damn headache _wasn't_ helping. 

Lex was about to get up to get some kind of pain medication when the library doors flung open. Lex looked up, though he already knew who it was. There was only one person he knew who always felt the need to make such a dramatic entrance. 

Lionel Luthor entered the library, coattails flying madly behind him. Lex was _not_ in the mood for a confrontation with his father after a day like this. He could barely handle his father when he was completely healthy, let alone when he felt like a little war was going on inside his head. But the confrontation was unavoidable, and Lex knew it. 

"Hello Dad. To what do I owe this _pleasant_ surprise?" Lex asked, his voice positively dripping with sarcasm. 

Lionel did not answer. He simply continued walking until he reached the front of Lex's desk. Lex did not grant him the courtesy of standing up to greet him. Why should he? His father didn't deserve it, and at this point, Lex didn't know if he even had the energy. 

"Are you going to answer me, Dad, or have you decided to study to become a mime?" 

Lionel gave his son another cold look and placed a small tape recorder on the desk in front of Lex. Lex raised his eyebrows in curiosity, but didn't comment immediately. He had to admit, though, he was extremely curious. He hated it when his father was vague and mysterious like this. 

Lex expected his father to speak, to explain the presence of the tape recorder, but all Lionel did was fix him with an evil glare. He was mad about something; Lex could tell. Then again, he was usually mad about something, so Lex wasn't too worried. "Are you going to tell me why there is a tape recorder on my desk, or are we just going to continue to stare at it, and hope it does something?" 

Lionel finally spoke. "Your wry attempts at humor aren't getting you anywhere, Lex. You are just adding to my bad mood." 

"And we _can't_ have that," Lex countered sardonically. 

"Don't toy with me, son. You're just digging yourself into a deeper hole by doing so," Lionel replied. 

Lex smiled, though there was little humor in it. "I wasn't aware that I was digging myself into a hole. But if I am, you're the one that handed me the shovel." 

"If you're trying to be funny, Lex, then you're not succeeding." 

"As I recall, Dad, you're the one who started the metaphor," Lex answered, matching his father blow for blow as usual. They were forever caught in a stalemate in their verbal sparring match. "Now are you going to tell me about the tape recorder or not?" 

Lionel gave Lex a humorless smile, a reflection of Lex's own second's before. Lex thought that Lionel was going to say something painful, but instead, he just reached forward and pushed the play button on the recorder. A familiar voice rang in Lex's ears. "So, anything else you would be willing to trade all your money for?" 

It was Clark's voice, an echo of their conversation just a few days prior. Lex's breath caught in his throat. He knew what was coming next. 

And as he suspected, a new voice came out of the tiny speaker. His own. "I don't know. A new father, maybe." 

Lionel reached out, stopping the recorder. Lex's eyes widened, both in surprise and pure hatred. "So now you've taken to bugging the house? What the hell?" 

"If you would learn to obey me, I wouldn't have to." 

Lex stood up, anger apparent on his face. For once, his emotions were showing, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing. "Oh, so now voicing my opinion about you is disobedience? You really need to make a book of these rules, so I can at least know when I'm breaking them." 

"You need to learn to control that mouth of yours, both when I am around and when I'm not," Lionel scolded. 

"And you're _what_?" Lex demanded. "Surprised by what I said? You'd say the same about me and you know it. You have no right to lecture me." 

With that, Lex moved toward the doors of the library. He did not want to run away like a coward, but he could not handle this right now. He hoped that his words would give him sufficient time to make a dramatic exit. His father did not give him that chance. 

Lionel caught Lex by the wrist. His grip was tight. _Too_ tight. Lex thought that it might leave a mark. He spun Lex around by his hold on his wrist so that they were facing each other. "I'm your father, Lex. I have every right to lecture you." 

Lex looked at his father, the coldness in his eyes matched only by his tone. "Simply sharing the same genes doesn't make you a father. You actually have to act like one," Lex seethed. 

Lex was surprised as he felt his father's hand connect with his face. He was struck off balance by the blow and stumbled backward into a bookshelf. 

Within seconds, his father was there, pinning him into the bookshelf by his neck. He was cutting off Lex's air supply. Lex gasped, trying in vain to struggle away from the iron grip that Lionel had on his neck. 

"Don't you _ever_ speak like that to me again," Lionel ordered sternly. "Do you understand me?" 

Instead of giving an answer, Lex pulled up all the air and strength he could muster and gasped, "Let. Go. Of. Me." 

Lionel looked at his son for a second, as if considering. Finally, he removed his hand from Lex's throat, watching him collapse to the ground, coughing. 

"You're weak, Lex. How do you expect to get by in this world? Only the strong survive. When will you learn?" 

Still coughing painfully, Lex forced himself to look up. He would _not_ let his father win this. Lex wouldn't give Lionel the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt him. "Spoken like a true predator," he forced out, bursting into a coughing fit. 

"Lex, Lex, Lex," Lionel chorused. "When are you going to learn when to keep your mouth shut?" Lionel reached his hand out to touch his son's chin. He forced Lex's head up from that touch, so that he could look straight at him. 

Lex looked at his father unhappily, but said nothing. "Ah, he's learning," Lionel said, seemingly to someone who wasn't currently in the room. Then, acting as if nothing had happened, Lionel strode over to the desk and picked up the tape recorder. "I expect to hear nothing more like this," he said, motioning to the recorder in his hand. 

Without another word, Lionel strode out of the library. Seconds later, Lex heard the front door open and close and sighed in relief. It was over, at least for now, Lex thought, massaging his sore throat tenderly. 

Lionel Luthor, true to his nature, had gone for Lex's weaknesses. _When_ _attacking_ , _go_ _for_ _the_ _throat_ , Lionel had always said. 

* * *

Lex listened closely until the sound of his father's car drifted away into the distance. He felt almost as if he was going to throw up. He had thought that it was over. He had thought that now that he was in Smallville and his father was in Metropolis, all of this would stop. 

Of course, Lionel had sensed Lex's false sense of security and taken advantage of that weakness. That was what his father always did. He took advantage of other people's weaknesses, no matter how much he hurt them in the process. That was why Lex always tried so hard not to be weak. He tried to be what his father wanted in a son. 

But he should have learned a long time before that trying to please his father was a waste of time. Lionel would never be pleased with him. He would never love him. 

Lex reached his hand back to grip the bookshelf he had collapsed against. Slowly, he began to ease himself back into a standing position, bracing all of his weight onto the shelf. He fought the bile that rose in his throat from the physical effort standing up required. And the knowledge of what had just happened did not make his nausea any better. 

Lex forced himself toward the bathroom, leaning against the wall almost the whole way. His physical injuries did not seem too severe, but he had to fight to keep himself upright from dizziness. It also didn't help that he was having trouble breathing. 

Reaching the bathroom, Lex closed the door softly behind him. Supporting himself on the counter, Lex surveyed himself in the mirror. He didn't look too badly injured; he had taken far worse beatings in the past. The place on his cheek where his father had first struck him was already reddening. He had a lump on the back of head from being pinned into the bookshelf. 

But the worst parts were where his father had grabbed him. On his wrist, Lex could clearly see finger-shaped purple bruises, like a sick tattoo of his father's hatred of him. His throat was the same, except on a more grand scale. Those bruises were already blackish purple, much darker than the one on his wrist, and there was a streak of blood where his father's fingernail had scraped his neck. It made sense, though, as this was more sensitive skin. 

And Lex did not even want to _try_ to talk again. The effort seemed far too intense, and his throat was far too painful even when he stayed silent. He thought that his vocal cords might be damaged. Hell, maybe his esophagus was as well, with the trouble he was having trying to breathe. 

Tears stung Lex's eyes, but he wouldn't - _couldn't_ \- let himself cry. He would not give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing that he could hurt Lex like this, especially since he now knew that the castle was bugged. He felt as if his privacy was being invaded and that he couldn't even outwardly show his pain when he was alone, for his father could listen to it and use that against him as well. 

Massaging his still-throbbing head, Lex opened the bathroom cabinet, searching for something that could get rid of the pain. Damn, he wished so badly that he had some actual drugs in the house. Something illegal and dangerous. Something that could numb the pain. Unfortunately, he would just have to settle with painkillers. 

Lex turned on the faucet and held a cup under the stream of water, watching as the crystal glass filled slowly. He tried desperately to will away the burning pain between his eyes. And on his neck. And on his wrist. And his cheek. And the back of his head. He was hurting everywhere. 

He began fiddling with the cap of the pill bottle, quietly cursing whoever came up with childproof caps. He could barely see what he was doing; the pain was so intense. It seemed to be blurring his vision. Finally, Lex got it open and quickly swallowed two pills. 

With that taken care of, Lex exited the bathroom stiffly and entered one of his many sitting rooms, collapsing into the nearest chair. Lex hated that his father could still do this to him. Hated that, by breaking down like this every time, he was just giving his father power. 

He just wanted it to all go away. But on some twisted level, Lex craved this. At least this way, Lex got _some_ attention from his father. He was assured that Lionel knew that he existed. It was stupid that Lex continually craved love from a man whose heart only held hatred. 

Lex grumbled softly to himself. He needed some ice for the bump on his head and the bruise across his cheekbone. He wasn't quite sure what he should do about the bruises on his neck. He did know one thing, however. 

He needed something to drink. 

Of course, Lex knew the dangers of mixing painkillers and alcohol. From past experience, he knew that it could be near fatal. But that was not going to stop him. 

Lex certainly wasn't going to drink himself to death, though. How could he get back at his father if he was dead? How could he rule the world before he was thirty if he killed himself? No, he was just going to drink enough to slightly dull the pain. 

Lex hauled himself back up out of the chair, wincing at the effort. His head was still pounding, but he forced himself to walk down the stairs. He couldn't believe that he was doing this again. He couldn't believe that he was once again walking down the stairs, all bruised and broken, hoping for the pain to stop. It had happened too many times in the past. He didn't know if he could handle all this shit again. It hurt everywhere, more inside than outside. 

As he walked down the hall toward the stairs, Lex began to take slow, deep breaths. The pain began to lessen a little once he started descending the stairs. The painkillers were starting to kick in, finally. If he had still held anything sacred, he would have thanked it for life's small pleasures such as painkillers. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the bottom of the stairs. He looked around, but none of his usual hired help was present. In fact, the house seemed to be completely empty. 

Lex didn't know why he was surprised. His father was a smart man. Of course, if he had been thinking of committing a criminal act, he would dismiss the house staff for the day. Lionel Luthor would not be stupid enough to leave extra witnesses. If he had, he would have to deal with the trouble of paying them off to keep them quiet. On second thought, Lionel might have just chosen to kill them instead. 

Shaking his head softly to himself, Lex wandered into the kitchen painfully. After retrieving some ice out of the freezer, Lex wrapped it in a paper towel, surprised that he could even locate these things. He never spent any time in the kitchen. Still, everything seemed to be happening in a dreamlike fashion, and Lex was able to find everything without even thinking about it. 

Lex held the piece of ice to his swelling cheekbone. The cold was painful, possibly more painful than the injury itself. The pain burned like a fire, and placing something frozen upon it had an equally painful effect. He hissed through his teeth in pain, pulling the ice away quickly. This was not having the desired effect. 

Instead, Lex spotted his other goal. A bottle of some type of alcohol sat on the counter. Not even checking the label to see what it was, Lex pulled out a wineglass. It didn't matter what it was anyway. Just as long as it would help take the pain away. 

He poured some into the glass and took a sip, sighing somewhat contentedly as he felt the burn of alcohol run down his throat. He was able to identify the liquid as red wine. How fitting. It was so much like blood... 

"Lex!" a voice called from the front of the house. "Are you here?" 

It was Clark. 

* * *

Clark rang the bell at Lex's front gate again impatiently, but still no one answered. It seemed as if all of Lex's house staff had disappeared or had gone completely deaf. A little bit confused, Clack looked at the gate. He had "squeezed through the bars" before, and he could do it again. 

Less than a minute later, Clark was past the tall gate and on Lex's long stone driveway. He ran up the driveway in what most people would consider a sprint, past the fountain until he reached the front door. Clark knocked on the front door as well, but there was still no answer. He knocked once more, but still there was nothing. 

He was starting to get worried. Lex should be home. What if something that was to be Chloe's next entry on the "Wall of Weird" had gotten to him? What if Lex was in some sort of trouble? 

Fueled simply by that fear for Lex's safety, Clark prepared to break the lock, if necessary. But when Clark turned the doorknob, he found that the door was unlocked. 

Clark frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. This was strange. How many billionaires were there in the world who would keep the doors to their million dollar mansions unlocked? He knew that Lex could be considered a bit out of the ordinary, but this was kind of extreme. Had Lex gotten so used to the security of living in a small town that he had decided to cut down on the security measures? 

Somehow, Clark doubted it. Plus, Lex knew better than almost anyone how unsafe the small town of Smallville was. Lex was not stupid enough to leave his doors unlocked and dismiss all his staff at the same time...was he? 

Clark stepped through the threshold. "Lex!" he called. "Are you here?" 

Clark paused for a second, waiting for an answer. When he received none, he walked further into the large foyer. "Lex?" he called again. 

"I'm in the dining room, Clark!" Lex's voice yelled back, sounding strangely strained and raspy. 

Ignoring the change in his friend's voice tone for the time, Clark looked around at all the hallways and doorways that snaked off in different directions. "Umm, where exactly is the dining room?" 

There was another long pause and Clark could hear Lex clear his throat. Finally, his friend spoke again. "Third door to your left!" 

"Great," Clark said to himself, heading toward the door that Lex had mentioned. He sometimes felt like he needed a map to get around Lex's vast castle. He had finally figured out how to get to the library on his own, but that was only because that was where Lex usually was, so he had been there enough times to remember. 

Clark couldn't imagine what it would be like to live in a house that was so large. Being in Lex's castle always made him feel so tiny. There was probably a bedroom for every day of the week in this place. In fact, there were probably more. He wondered if Lex even knew what all the rooms were supposed to be used for. 

Shaking his head at his own strange thoughts, Clark entered the dining room. He looked around, immediately overwhelmed. The room looked big enough to fit about four rooms the size of the dining room in _his_ house. The room had decorative wooden flooring and beautiful wood-paneled walls. In the center sat a heavily lacquered mahogany table large enough to seat ten. 

The table now only held Lex, sitting in a chair at the head of the table. One of Lex's legs was resting casually atop the other. His elegant dress shirt was lavender, and it was buttoned all the way up. His pants, as usual, were expensive black slacks. In Lex's hand was a glass of red wine, which he sipped casually. 

"Hello Clark," Lex said, his voice completely in control, though still much rougher than usual. "I didn't hear you knock." 

"I knocked, but no one answered," Clark replied, walking closer to his friend. "None of your staff was here and the door was unlocked, so I let myself in." 

"I decided to give the staff the rest of the day off," Lex replied distantly. 

As Clark stepped closer to Lex, he noticed something about his friend immediately. There was an angry red bruise across his left cheekbone. It was swelling slightly and looked more than a little painful. "Oh my God, Lex!" Clark exclaimed. "What happened?" 

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Clark," Lex answered evasively. As if to prove his point, Lex once again sipped his wine nonchalantly. 

Clark moved closer, so he could survey the bruise on Lex's cheek. "Are you sure? That looks pretty painful." 

Lex shook his head softly. "It's nothing, Clark. Don't worry about it," he dismissed a second time. Clark looked straight at Lex, hoping that his face would reveal if it really were nothing. But Lex's face was, as always, unreadable. 

"I'm going to go get you some ice," Clark said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. In reality, he was just looking for a minute to try to figure out what was going on and what he should do about it. Well, that and he was trying to find a way to ease his friend's pain. 

"Clark, it's okay, you don't have to - " 

But Clark was already in the kitchen before Lex had a chance to finish. He walked into the huge kitchen, looking around quickly. After just a few moments, he found the freezer, but discovered that he didn't have to go there. There was already a piece of ice wrapped in a paper towel sitting on the counter, right next to a bottle of red wine, probably the same wine that Lex was now drinking. 

_That's weird_ , Clark thought. _If Lex was already treating his injury, then why did he stop and pretend that nothing was wrong when I came in? Why is he trying to hide this from me_? 

Extremely confused now, Clark picked up the piece of ice and walked back to Lex, who was still sitting on the chair, just as Clark had left him. "You know, Clark, I'm fine. You really don't have to do this," Lex insisted. 

Clark ignored him and pulled up a chair next to Lex. "Let me see," he prodded gently, scooting the chair closer to examine Lex's bruised cheekbone. Paying no attention to Lex's continued protests that he was fine, Clark began to look at the injury. 

He ran one finger across Lex's cheek, carefully examining the extent of his facial bruising. Lex shut his mouth immediately as Clark laid a gentle finger on his burning cheek, wincing slightly at even the minute contact to his injury. "Sorry," Clark whispered, lifting the hand with the ice to press it against Lex's cheek to stop the swelling. Lex winced a second time, though this time, he was able to conceal most of it. 

Clark looked at Lex once again, his eyes wandering to the collar of Lex's purple dress shirt. He hadn't found how far Lex had buttoned it strange until just then, when he spotted the edges of mottled bluish-purple bruises across Lex's throat. It looked as if a person had grabbed Lex around the neck, for the bruises formed almost the shape of a complete hand. The color was sickening against the pale color of Lex's skin. 

"Oh God, Lex. Who did this to you?" Clark demanded softly, though more firmly than before. 

"Clark, it - it's not important." 

"How can you say it's not important? Someone hurt you and you're acting like it's no big deal!" Clark asked, his friend's strangle acceptance of his injuries making him slightly hysterical. "What other injuries do you have that you're hiding from me?" 

Lex took a deep breath and clasped his hand around Clark's, which was still holding the piece of ice to his face. Slowly and carefully, he pulled the hand away and held it in his own. Finally, he spoke. "Clark, please just drop it," Lex said, his voice almost a calm pleading. 

"But Lex - " 

" _Please_ , Clark. Just leave." 

Lex looked at Clark firmly, as if to enforce his statement. This hurt Clark very much. His friend had just asked him to leave because he was concerned about him. He did not want to go, but he figured that arguing with Lex right now would accomplish nothing, except getting his best friend mad at him. "All right, Lex. I'll leave. But if you want to talk, you know where to find me," Clark said, hoping that Lex would take advantage of this offer. 

"Yeah," Lex answered simply. 

Knowing that there was nothing more he could do, Clark nodded to his friend and left reluctantly. _What_ _is_ _Lex_ _hiding_? Clark wondered as he closed the front door behind him. _And_ _why_ _won't_ _he_ _tell_ _me_ _if_ _it_ _is_ _getting_ _him_ _injured_? 

* * *

"Clark, are you listening to me?" Chloe demanded, looking at her friend in exasperation. 

Clark's head snapped up at the sound of the small blonde's voice. Truly, he wasn't paying any attention. Chloe had been trying to explain her latest meteor theory, but Clark was preoccupied. He was way too worried about Lex and what was going on with him. 

"I'm sorry Chloe," Clark apologized. "My mind is just somewhere else today." He moved across his loft and sat on the couch next to her. 

Chloe sighed. "Is it something about Lana?" she asked a little uncertainly. 

Clark shook his head. "No, this has nothing to do with Lana," he answered. 

Chloe's face brightened a little. "Well, then is it something I can help you with?" she asked. She looked at Clark hopefully, wishing that he would feel comfortable in sharing whatever was distracting him with her. She just hoped that it wasn't some girl that was diverting his attention. 

But as much as Clark wanted to tell Chloe about what was bothering him, he was almost sure that she couldn't help. And anyway, he knew that it was not his place to share any problems Lex was having with anyone, especially since Lex didn't even want to share it with _him_. Still, if he knew that Lex was in danger, wasn't it his duty as a friend to try to help? 

"No, Chloe, I don't think that this is something you can help me with," Clark answered finally. 

"You sure?" she asked. "Because I can be a very good listener." 

After a moment of debating with himself, Clark decided to give it a try. He would not divulge that he was talking about Lex, however. "Okay," he replied. He considered how he would word the problem to Chloe without sharing too much information about the person he was talking about. "Well, let's say that I have this friend - " 

Chloe cut him off seconds after he began speaking. "Clark, is this one of those `I have this friend that has a problem, but in reality I am talking about myself' things?" she asked quickly. 

"No. I am really talking about a friend," Clark insisted. 

"Okay, then. Please continue." 

Clark took a deep breath and did just that. "Let's say that I knew that this friend was hiding things from me." 

Chloe smirked at him. "And for the sake of argument, let's call this friend `Lex Luthor'," she said, her voice filled with confidence. 

Clark looked back up at Chloe, slightly panicked. No one was meant to know about this, he was sure, or Lex would have just told him what was going on. Lex would probably be mad, especially since he was sharing the information with someone as inquisitive as Chloe Sullivan. "What makes you think I'm talking about Lex?" Clark asked as innocently as he could muster. 

Chloe looked at Clark in a strange way, as if she thought that the answer should be obvious. "Clark, how many friends do you have, besides Lex, that are constantly hiding things from you?" she asked, cocking her head to the side slightly. 

"Look, are you going to listen to me and try to help or are you just going to keep guessing about everything I say?" Clark demanded, his nervousness about her finding out what was really going on bringing out the very rare anger in him. 

"Jeez, I'm sorry. I'm a reporter; it's in my nature to question anything. I'm listening." 

Clark nodded to her thankfully. "Thank you," he replied, running one hand over his jean-clad leg tensely. "All right, so let's say that I know that what this friend is hiding from me is somehow getting him injured. Physically. And he won't say a word about what is going on." 

Chloe's eyes widened, immediately looking even more concerned and interested. "Does it have anything to do with the meteor rock mutants?" she asked, almost wishfully. 

"No," Clark answered. "If it was, he would have said something to me. I think that this danger is strictly of the human variety." 

"Is it something really serious? Life-threatening even?" 

Clark looked down, seemingly beginning to find the floorboards extremely interesting. He didn't really know how to answer his friend. He didn't even think that he had even seen all of Lex's injuries, though he didn't dare use his x-ray vision to check. He didn't know how much more serious it got. He was just extremely worried for his best friend, and he wished more than anything that he had more information about what was going on. He wished that Lex could trust him enough to confide in him. 

"I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "I really hope not." 

As he said it, another thought entered Clark's mind. Lex had been trying to hide injuries from him, and he had been pretty convincing. Clark would not have even suspected anything was wrong if it had not been for the fact that Lex's injuries had been so clear upon his face. Was it possible that Lex had had less apparent injuries in the past, and he had hidden it so believably that Clark had not noticed anything was wrong? 

The possibility that Lex had been hiding injuries from him the entire time they had known each other scared Clark. In fact, it _terrified_ him. And how bad were the possible injuries that he _hadn't_ seen? He was scared for Lex - and scared for what would happen if Lex didn't ask for help soon. 

"Clark?" Chloe ventured, worried by her friend's sudden silence. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah..." Clark trailed off distractedly. Instead of making him feel better and helping him with Lex's situation, this conversation was just making him more worried. He had to go see Lex again. This time, he would convince Lex to tell him what was going on. He had to, for Lex's sake. 

"Chloe, I gotta go," Clark said, already beginning to get up. He dashed quickly out of the loft. 

"Wait, Clark - " Chloe protested. 

But Clark was already gone. 

* * *

Clark ran at lightning speed toward the Luthor castle. Trees and many fields of corn whirred past as he sped by. His hair blew backwards from the intense wind and air resistance. He paid no attention to his surroundings, however. The only thing on his mind was getting to Lex. 

After what seemed like an eternity, though it was only about a minute, he reached the tall iron gate. He passed it quickly with absolutely no second thoughts about his actions. He just wanted to talk to Lex again, to help him - before something horrible happened. Clark knew from the way that Lex had acted that it was unlikely that anything had happened to his friend so soon, but his need to see Lex was growing more urgent over time. 

Clark ran up the long driveway and past the fountain until he finally reached the large front door to the castle. He turned the knob, expecting it to be unlocked still. But to Clark's dismay, the door no longer budged when he turned the knob. Brow furrowed in confusion and worry, Clark broke the lock. The door swung open this time when he pushed it and he stepped into the foyer for the second time that day. 

"Lex?" Clark called uncertainly, unsure if his friend would even _want_ to speak to him. As he suspected, he got no answer. 

"Lex!" he called out a second time. Still, the house stayed completely silent. Even with his hearing that was better than average, Clark could hear nothing, no movement within the house. The only sounds were coming from him. 

Beginning to worry even more now, Clark began to scan the house with his x-ray vision. Lex was not on the first floor of the house. Though he was unsure of Lex's ability to climb stairs, he scanned the upper floors as well. Lex was not there either. Nor was he on the grounds outside. 

Lex had seemingly vanished from his house. 

* * *

The sun was low on the horizon, coloring the sky with the splashes of orange, pink, and purple, the colors blending so perfectly together as if colored in pastels by the hand of a fine artist. The Kansas countryside was bathed in the soft, orange glow of the waning sunlight. It just barely hit the large sign of the Talon as Lex parked his silver Porsche outside. 

It had taken some intense time and thought, but Lex had finally realized that he had to get out of the castle. He couldn't stand to be violated in the way that he knew his father was intruding upon his privacy. The knowledge that his father had bugged the castle made him feel as if he couldn't even be himself in his own home. It was very disquieting to feel like an alien in the one place that you were supposed to be safe. A person's home was supposed to be their sanctuary. Then again, the Luthor house, no matter where it was moved to, had never been such to Lex. 

Stiffly, Lex opened the car door and forced himself to get out. After he made sure that his shirt collar completely covered the gruesome bruises across his neck, Lex strode into the Talon, trying to act as normal as possible. He knew that he would probably end up in worse shape if anyone found out what had happened, and who ever discovered the secret was in for a worse fate - death. Lex knew that no one had to be hurt for him. He didn't _want_ anyone to get hurt because of him, especially not Clark. It was better to keep his mouth shut. 

Sighing to himself, Lex sat down at one of the tables by the window of the coffeehouse. He was once again alone; not that this surprised him in any way. Everyone assumed that Lex Luthor had so few friends because he was a conceited rich bastard, and he was fine in letting them believe that, if it kept them safe. But the real reason was that he thought that they might get too inquisitive, like Clark. He had no doubt that his father would be willing to kill anyone who happened to find out how Lex often accumulated harsh bruising. 

The sound of approaching footsteps made Lex's head snap up. In front of him stood Lana, a pad of paper and a pen in her hands. "Hey boss," Lana said jokingly. "Ready to order?" 

"Just an espresso," Lex answered, not really caring what he ordered. But espresso was a rather dark coffee, which suited his mood just fine. 

Lana studied Lex more closely. After a quick second, she spotted a blackish-purple bruise coloring the skin over Lex's cheekbone. She was surprised that she hadn't spotted it right away; the dark bruises were a dramatic contrast to Lex's pale skin. She noticed similar bruising across the back of the bald man's head, just above the bone at the base of his skull. 

She opened her mouth to comment, but then spotted the look on Lex's face. It was emotionless, as usual, though there was something else more clear in his features at that moment. His expression said very clearly that he didn't want to discuss his bruises. For once, what the young Luthor was thinking was right upon his features, though emotion about it was still conspicuously absent. 

"Okay, espresso it is," Lana said instead, turning to walk back to the counter. 

There she was met by Chloe, who was leaning against the counter, having just entered the Talon. She was surprised to see that Chloe was eyeing Lex with the strangest look on her face, some sort of disgusted confusion and concern. Her gaze was so intense that she did not even notice Lana as she approached. 

"Chloe," Lana greeted, breaking the other girl's reverie. 

"Hey Lana," Chloe answered distractedly, still watching Lex out of the corner of her eye. Lana glanced quickly over at him as well, but spotted nothing that could be transfixing Chloe so. She had never shown any sort of interest in Lex for any reason before, and the only thing that was different about him was his unexplained bruising. 

"Lana, you were just talking to Lex, right?" Chloe asked, still not taking her eyes of the subject of her question. 

"Yes," Lana answered, glancing at Lex again. "If you consider me asking him what type of coffee he'd like to be `talking.'" There was the tiniest bit of humorous sarcasm in her voice. 

Chloe chose to simply ignore her sarcastic tone. She was sure that Lex was the hypothetical "friend" that Clark had been speaking of earlier, even if he hadn't admitted it. She was slightly angry that Lex had sent innocent little Clark into such an emotional whirlwind. More than that, she hated that Clark seemed to be spending more time with Lex than her lately. It made it seem like Clark cared more about Lex than he did about her. 

And her reporter's curiosity was making her simply itching to know what was going on. 

"Well, when you were talking to Lex, did you notice anything...unusual about him?" Chloe inquired cautiously. After all, Clark would hate it if she accidentally divulged that he had spoken to her about whatever was going on with Lex. 

"What do you mean?" Lana asked. 

Chloe thought for a moment before answering. She could not give a direct answer because she still knew very little about what was going on. Still, she knew that she had to say _something_ if she wanted to find out what was going on. 

"I don't know exactly. Did he act like anything was wrong? Or did he just do anything un-Lex-like?" she asked hopefully. 

"Actually, there was something that was a little strange," Lana admitted. "When I was over there, I noticed that Lex had a bruise across his cheek. There's one on the back of his head too. Why?" 

Chloe nodded, slightly surprised, but at the same time not. She did remember Clark saying something about his "friend" being hurt by whatever his secret was, but it still came as a shock. She had always thought of the Luthors as something invincible and untouchable, but that was obviously not true, at least in Lex's case. 

"No reason," Chloe dismissed as casually as she could manage. She looked back at Lex, who was now staring blankly at the table in front of him. She _could_ see now that he had a bruise on his face, and a painful looking one at that. "I'll catch you later, Lana," she said somewhat distractedly. 

"Sure," Lana said. Chloe did not miss the other girl's exasperated tone, but chose to keep silent about it. She had more important things to deal with. 

Chloe walked quickly over to the table where Lex sat. She stood across from him for a few seconds, but he did not even acknowledge her presence. Annoyed, Chloe loudly dropped her bag onto the table in front of Lex to attract his attention. His head snapped up immediately. 

"Oh, Chloe," Lex said finally, sounding quite a bit more detached and distant than usual. 

Ignoring Lex's tone, Chloe spoke. "Is this seat taken?" she asked, gesturing to the chair in front of her. Lex opened his mouth to answer, but Chloe cut him off before he even got the chance. "Good. Thanks." She plopped herself down into the chair. 

Lex rolled his eyes slightly at the small blonde's rude behavior. The motion of his eyes was so slight, in fact, that most people wouldn't have even noticed. However, Chloe's sense of perception was stronger than most, and she caught every twitch, every breath. It was her journalistic side. And most journalists, Chloe included, had very keen skills of observation. 

"So Lex," she began immediately, "how did you get those bruises? You finally piss someone off enough that they hit you?" she finished sardonically. Her gaze was strong and steady, which made most people nervous. But she should have already learned that Lex was not so easily intimidated. She doubted that he even got nervous. 

At her words, Lex's eyes darkened. His features were grim and his mouth was set in its usual emotionless line, neither a smile nor a frown. "You know, Chloe, I'm really not in the mood for this right now," Lex said steadily. "And it is really no concern of yours." 

This made Chloe very angry. "Like hell it's not my concern!" she exclaimed. "Clark is worried sick about you and it is killing him that you won't tell him what is going on!" 

For a moment, panic flooded Lex's features, but he quickly got it under control. "Clark was...talking to you," he said slowly and evenly, as if to get it straight even in his own head. He both looked and sounded betrayed. Chloe would have laughed had the situation not been so serious. Finally, a Luthor was the one _feeling_ betrayed, not making someone else feel it. 

"God, can you just not stand someone being worried about you, Lex?" Chloe demanded. "And I would say that his concern was completely warranted in this situation, whatever the hell that may be. But of course, we don't even know what is going on! I don't know if your reason for not telling Clark is because you think that you can deal with whatever is happening by yourself, but if that is it, tell him, because it is obvious that you _can't_." 

Lex took a slow, deep breath to calm himself before he spoke. "Chloe, stay out of things that are none of your business. It can get you into a lot of trouble, and this intrepid reporter deal is getting very old very fast," Lex said coolly. "And you should also learn to refrain from speaking about things that you know nothing about." 

Lex shot Chloe one more icy look before he strode quickly out of the Talon. 

* * *

Lex sat back at his desk that night. Actually, it was probably already morning, but not late enough to be dawn, as the silvery-white light of the full moon was still shining through the clear and red plate-glass windows of the library. He was trying desperately to get the work he had not finished earlier completed; there really was no reason to piss his father off further. But it wasn't working out as well as he had hoped, for he was far too distracted and the headache he had had earlier was coming back full force. 

Still, he ignored the pain. There were two reports that he knew needed to be finished by the next workday, but that was not quite motivation enough. The truth was that he was worried. Clark had set Chloe on his back, and he knew as well as anyone that when Chloe started investigating something, she would stop at nothing to discover the truth. And if his father thought for even a second that he had told someone - 

_No_ , he commanded himself. He could not even think of the consequences of that. Lex could not let Lionel find out that anyone even _suspected_ what could be going on. If Clark and Chloe thought that _those_ bruises were bad... 

_No_ , he told himself, a little more firmly this time. _I_ _will_ _not_ _feel_ _sorry_ _for_ _myself_. 

Lex looked back over at his laptop, skimming over the words that he had written. This work could easily distract him usually. Unfortunately, this time it wasn't working quite as well as he had hoped it would. 

Suddenly, a low whirring sound came from outside. At first, he thought that it might just be his imagination, so he ignored it. But after just a few seconds, the sound began to become louder, as the thing making it came closer. Once it came so close that Lex could no longer ignore it, he was able to identify the sound. 

It was a helicopter. His father's helicopter to be exact. 

Lex was filled with extreme trepidation at the sound of the droning propellers. Panic threatened to completely consume him. What had he done to make his father return so soon? What had he done wrong this time? 

_Don't_ _let_ _him_ _see_ _you_ _panic_ , Lex's logical mind said. _It's_ _a_ _weakness_ _that_ _he's_ _already_ _learned_ _to_ _so_ _easily_ _take_ _advantage_ _of_. _Maybe_ _if_ _you_ _act_ _like_ _nothing_ _is_ _wrong_ , _you_ _can_ _get_ _off_ _easy_... _this_ _time_. 

The roar of the propellers was almost deafening by the time the helicopter came to rest on the lawn, or it at least seemed that way to Lex. He was still trying to urge himself to stay calm when he heard the helicopter door slam loudly, though he dared not look out the window. It was true that anticipation could be the purest form of pleasure, but in this case, it was the purest form of torture, and his father knew that. That was why he had chosen to make such an entrance that time, Lex was sure of it. 

He could hear his father's heavy footfalls resounding through the stone walls of the empty castle, the noise seemingly magnified to his ears. He knew that if his father was angry about something, he would not get off as easy as he had earlier. Still, staying relaxed, or at least pretending to, was the best way to go, Lex decided as his father walked into the library. 

"Two visits in less than twenty-four hours?" Lex asked immediately as his father entered. "It's very flattering, but you don't want to spoil me with affection, do you?" Lex tried to keep the contempt out of his voice, as to not anger his father further, but he failed miserably. It was very difficult to keep anger and disgust out of his voice while speaking to his father. 

Lionel shot his son a piercing look. "And in less that twenty-four hours, you have managed to forget everything I tried to teach you about keeping your mouth shut," he countered matter-of-factly. 

"Maybe it's your teaching methods," Lex shot back, his voice brimming with barely controlled anger. 

"Maybe I just need to be stricter when...enforcing my rules," Lionel said, his voice steady and even. Lex gulped audibly at the prospect before his father spoke again. "Maybe you just need another lesson on who is in control. Or maybe you just need to learn that the Kent boy has no place in the business of our family." 

Lex's breath caught in his throat. "I didn't tell Clark anything," Lex insisted, the control that he had acquired seconds before evaporating. 

"Really?" his father asked unbelievingly. "I think that you must have, seeing that the little reporter girl is now trying to snoop into our records. I'm sure that I've told you what will happen if you include other people in this." 

Lex's eyes bulged slightly. "Leave Clark alone!" he commanded, regretting the words the second they left his mouth. 

Lionel's hand connected with Lex's lower jaw, snapping his head back from the force of the blow. The chair he sat in rocked backward as well, as Lex tasted blood in his mouth, but it miraculously stayed upright. Lex coughed painfully as blood began to trickle down his already damaged throat. 

"Since when have you been given permission to tell me what to do?" Lionel demanded, his controlled voice not faltering the tiniest bit. "Obviously, you have conveniently forgotten everything I have taught you about obedience as well." 

Lex narrowed his eyes at his father, wiping blood from his lips with the back of his hand. " _Obedience_?" he spat angrily. "I suppose that now I am your faithful dog as well." 

His hand lightning-quick, Lionel grabbed his son's arm, using that hold to forcibly wrench him out of his chair. Lex's shoulder popped out of its socket, the snapping sound loud enough to be heard throughout the entire room. He bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, trying desperately to keep from crying out in pain. 

Lionel twisted Lex's arm slightly, then spoke again. "You are lower than a dog, and nowhere near faithful. Do not take that tone with me, son," he commanded. Lex opened his mouth once again to retort, but another violent twist of his arm kept him quiet. "Are you going to keep quiet now, or must I twist harder? I believe that with a bit more force, I could break your arm. Would you like to chance it?" 

Lex glared at his father, despite the fact that tears were forming in his eyes because of the pressure that was being placed on his arm. The extremely perceptive older man picked up on it immediately, bringing further fury to flood his features. Quickly, he twisted Lex's arm some more, until he heard a sickening, yet satisfying crack as the bone broke. 

"Pity," Lionel stated as he finally released Lex. Lex collapsed sideways onto the edge of the desk, holding his now limp right arm. His breathing was quick and labored, worsened by the almost overwhelming pain that was shooting up and down the nerves of his arm and from his bloody jaw. "Lucky thing that you're left-handed," his father teased cruelly, no note of actual pity in his voice. "Though if you choose to anger me further, that arm may end up in the same state." 

Lex looked up at his father, still gripping his broken arm. He knew that his shoulder was probably dislocated as well with all the pain he was feeling. "Dad," he pleaded, his voice coming out as nearly a whimper. The noise sounded strange coming from his lips. Luthors never pleaded or whimpered. 

"Do not even try it with me, Alexander," Lionel said, his voice mocking. "You are weak, a disgusting disgrace to this entire family. You make me _sick_." 

"I'm surprised that you don't make _yourself_ sick," Lex retorted, fighting the wave of dizziness that swept through his body. 

Lionel grabbed his son by the shirt collar, pulling him so that their faces were mere inches from each other's. "You need to be taught, Lex. If you do not learn the lesson the first time, more desperate measures will be called for." Lex could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke. 

Suddenly, he hurled Lex's body to the side, the bald man flying toward the nearby wall. His whole right side connected with it, his head receiving the worst of the impact. He felt blood drip down his forehead as his body fell to the ground, his arm in even worse condition after his collision with the wall. 

His father was next to his fallen body in seconds. Lex looked up at the commanding man, his vision fading in and out of focus. For just a second, Lex could see two of his father, then three. Then, the whole scene just became blurry and unfocused. 

A solid kick connected with Lex's abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. Trying to regain his breath, Lex coughed, his airway still partially blacked by the blood from his injured jaw. "You _will_ obey me, Lex," his father insisted sternly before another kick landed on his stomach, his body curling into a tight ball as he continued to gasp for breath. 

And that was the last thing he remembered before the world faded to black. 

* * *

Clark walked into the _Smallville_ _Torch_ office that morning when he got to school. Chloe was, as usual, sitting at her computer and typing something in quickly. She didn't even notice Clark when he first walked in; she was so involved in what she was typing. 

"Chloe," Clark said to get her attention. His mind was still in a whirlwind of worry about Lex, since he hadn't been at his house when he had visited the evening before. After tossing and turning all night long, he decided that he had to share Lex's problem with Chloe. He knew that, even if his friend wouldn't admit it, he needed help. He also knew that Chloe would be just the person to help him find out what was going on. 

"Clark, hey," Chloe said back, glancing up only briefly from her computer screen. 

Knowing that even though she was working, she could still listen to what he had to say, he spoke. "Chloe, there's something I need your help with. I need you to find out some information for me." 

"Is this about what happened to Lex?" Chloe asked knowingly, continuing to type even as she spoke. 

"Yes," Clark answered slowly, his voice full of confusion. "How did you...?" 

"Lex was at the Talon last night. It was obvious that he was the one you were talking about earlier, so I went to talk to him to see if I could find out what was going on. He had a bruise on his face and on the back of his head," she answered, her voice technical. "I take it he didn't want to dish out the details to you either." 

Clark sighed, a tiny bit of relief filling him. At least he knew where Lex had been the night before. Still, that worried him as well. If Lex had been so intent on hiding his injuries, then why did he leave the privacy of his own home and go to a public place? 

"No, he wouldn't tell me anything," Clark confessed quietly. "Could you help me find out what happened to him?" 

Chloe smiled gently. "I'm already on it," she replied, motioning to her computer. "I tried to get a peek at Lex's prior medical records last night, but they're completely sealed. Someone obviously doesn't want Lex's medical history to go public. Fortunately though, I lucked out. One of my contacts said that he could get me the info. I'm just waiting on his email. It should be coming any second now." 

Just as she said the words, a small beep came from her computer. "Like I said, any second," Chloe commented, moving her mouse to click on the new email. Clark moved around to stand behind Chloe, so he could see what she was doing and what was on the computer screen. In the email was a large set of files, all dated. "Wow. Lex sure has a long medical history." 

Clark nodded. "Well, Lex said something about how he was in the hospital a lot after he lost his hair in the meteor shower. His dad made him go to specialists to try to find a way to get his hair to grow back. Plus there was some stuff with his asthma when he was a kid." 

"Lex has asthma?" Chloe asked, moving the files that were before age ten, figuring that they were not the ones that they wanted to focus on. 

" _Had_ asthma," Clark clarified. Chloe looked at him curiously. "Another side effect of the meteor shower." 

Chloe nodded, accepting that answer. She pulled up the files from the time since Lex had moved to Smallville. "Let's see," she said, skimming through them. "Well, Lex has been incredibly healthy in the time that he has lived here. He had one normal check- up...and an appointment with a doctor who specializes in some medical field that I will never be able to pronounce the name of." 

Clark looked at the word in question, raising his eyebrows. Chloe was right; there was no way _he_ could pronounce that word either. He wasn't even going to attempt it. In fact, he wondered if the doctor could even pronounce the name of the field of medicine that he worked in. 

Focusing back on the task at hand, Clark spoke. "Could you pull up the records from before?" he questioned. 

Chloe nodded, beginning to search the new set of files. "Hmm, well in the four months before he moved here, he was in the hospital twice for drug overdoses. Both times with ecstasy," Chloe commented. 

Clark looked at the computer screen a second time, which just confirmed it. He had known that Lex had not exactly been a saint when he was living in Metropolis, but the facts staring him right in the face changed things. It was hard to think of Lex, as Clark knew him doing illegal drugs and endangering his own life like that. 

But he knew that what was happening with Lex at that time had noting to do with drugs, so he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Lex had bigger problems that he needed help with, even if he wouldn't admit it. 

"Keep looking," Clark commanded, and Chloe did so. 

After about a minute of searching, Chloe spoke again. "That's weird," she said, more to herself than to Clark. Clark looked at her questioningly, so she elaborated. 

"Well, I just kind of picked a random file. It's from the summer when Lex was sixteen. In the period of the two and a half months of summer, Lex was in the hospital six times. You should see the descriptions of these injuries...dislocated shoulder, concussion, broken nose, broken rib...tons of cuts and bruising. I can't believe that no one noticed the frequency and severity of these hospital visits before now. The doctors in Metropolis should have figured it out at least." 

Chloe opened another few files and was silent for another few minutes. After surveying all the files, she spoke. "It's like that for every school break...summer, winter, spring, but not during the school year. It stretches from the time Lex was twelve until about the time he left Metropolis," she said. "I don't get it." 

Clark thought for a second before speaking. "It started about the time that Lex's mother died. And he went to boarding school for a lot of his life," he said. "He must have gone home for the holidays. It only happened while he was at home. And the only person who lived at home with him..." 

"Wait, Clark. Stop," Chloe commanded. "What are you trying to say?" 

"I'm saying that the only person that Lex lived at home with was his father, after his mom died. It would make sense, why Lex wouldn't want to tell. And Lionel Luthor is definitely capable of it," Clark answered, thinking. 

He knew that he had to go talk to Lex again, though he didn't know what to say now that he knew what Lionel had done to his son. It gave him a completely different view of his friend. It made him admire Lex even more. It was amazing that Lex had become such a strong person despite everything that he had been through in his life. 

But it also made him sad. People always judged Lex before they knew him because they assumed that he was exactly like his father. But how could anyone ever be or even want to be like a man that had put them in the hospital six times during one summer? 

It nearly made Clark sick to his stomach. He knew that his father would _never_ do something like that to him. It disgusted him that any father would do something like that to their own child. It also filled him with a rage that made him want nothing more than to kill Lionel Luthor. 

How could anyone _ever_ hurt Lex like that? 

Lana suddenly walked into the room, disrupting Clark's thoughts. Her hair had been put up quickly and was somewhat messy, not the usual perfect hair of Lana Lang. She also had dark circles under her eyes. 

"Hey Lana," Chloe greeted as she entered. "You okay?" 

Lana nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the computer table. "Yeah, I'm just tired. I can't believe that you're not, Clark. You live right next door to me and the sound of that helicopter flying over didn't wake you?" 

"I'm a heavy sleeper," Clark replied distractedly. "What helicopter?" 

"Lionel Luthor's," Lana replied. "I don't know what could be so urgent that he had to fly in to see Lex at four in the morning and wake us all up. And as if that isn't bad enough, right when I was about to fall back asleep, he flew over again. You'd think that if he had to see his son that badly, he would have at least stayed until morning." 

Clark and Chloe exchanged a glance. Lex's father had been by to see him earlier that morning. Panicked, Clark knew that he had to get over to the castle right away. 

"Uhh, Lana, I gotta go," Clark said, gathering up his things quickly. 

He looked at his watch. It was almost eight o'clock in the morning already. That meant that if Lana's sense of time was accurate, then Lex could have possibly been lying in the castle for four hours, badly injured...or worse. 

"But Clark, what about school?" Lana protested. 

"This is more important," Clark replied, exiting the _Torch_ office at a run. 

* * *

Clark sprinted up Lex's driveway for what seemed to be the millionth time in a period of just a few short days. This time, he did not hesitate for even a second before he threw the front door open and ran inside. He was scared for Lex and what could have happened to him. He hated the thought that Lex could have been lying in the castle for hours, all bruised and bloody. The mere thought sent his mind painfully reeling. 

Once inside, Clark scanned the castle quickly with his x-ray vision, searching the house for any sign of his friend. After just a second, he spotted a body lying flaccidly upon the floor of the library, against one of the walls. 

"Lex!" Clark yelled frantically, running up the stairs to the library. He entered the room, and he saw something so close to his worst fears. 

Lex lay to the side of the room by the wall, his clothes partially ripped and bloodstained. The pale skin of his bald head was covered in dried blood. Dried blood also covered his chin, having leaked out of his mouth. There seemed to be cuts and bruises everywhere, and Lex's arm was hanging limply to the side of his body, sticking out at an odd angle. There was a small rip in the front of Lex's shirt, under which Clark could see dark blue-purple bruising covering the skin over his ribs. 

Clark ran to Lex's side immediately. He shook his friend's body slightly, but the other man did not stir. Clark's breath hitched in his chest, afraid for a fleeting moment that Lex was dead. But seconds later, he saw Lex's chest rise and fall slightly as air filled his lungs, and he slowly released his own breath in relief. 

But the relief lasted only a moment, until Clark realized that he had to get Lex to a hospital - and fast. Who knew how much longer Lex's body would be able to take the stress of his many injuries? 

Quickly, Clark picked Lex up. Lex's shallow breathing continued as Clark held the older man's body easily in his arms and began to run out of the castle, trying his best not to jar the body of his injured friend. It was only hard for Clark because he kept vaguely getting the urge to throw up at just the _thought_ that a father could ever do something so horrible to his own child. But he fought the urge and kept running, only because he knew that his best friend needed him. 

He was just at the edge of the Luthor property when Lex suddenly began to stir in his arms. Clark slowed his pace a bit as Lex sucked in a breath, then coughed at the painful sensation that action brought to his lungs. A tiny bit more blood leaked from his mouth. Finally, he opened his eyes. 

"Clark?" he rasped, his throat dry and seeming to have trouble moving his jaw. "What - " 

"Shhh," Clark soothed, putting his own panic aside for the moment. "Later. Right now, I have to get you to the hospital." 

Lex was now the one who looked slightly panicked. "Hospital?" he repeated. "Clark, you - you can't." Lex cleared his throat audibly, trying to get back his failing voice and trying to fight the severe, unrelenting pain that seemed to be coming from _everywhere_ in his body. "Don't get involved in this and don't get other people involved. It's too dangerous." 

Clark was tempted to stop Lex from speaking, for doing so seemed to cause him a lot of pain. He could tell that Lex's jaw was injured, maybe even broken as well. Still, he respected that Lex needed speak. 

"Lex, you're injured pretty badly. You need medical attention. Don't worry, I won't let your father do anything. To anyone." 

"My fath - how did you...?" Lex trailed off. 

"That's not important," Clark insisted gently. "We need to get you to the hospital." 

Lex seemed for a moment like he was going to protest, but closed his mouth and nodded. He let his eyes slip closed and his body went limp in Clark's arms, slipping into darkness once more. 

* * *

Lex sat on the examining table, watching the bright orange light of the sun bathe the Kansas landscape in its warming glow. He was vaguely of Clark sitting across the room, watching him, but found that he cared only enough to not act weak around him, although he didn`t blame Clark for staring. If he looked half as bad as he felt, then he would have stared worriedly too. 

There was a cast on his right arm because, as he had found out, his father had broken it in three places. There was a sling around that arm that was attached partially to his own body to keep him from further injuring his dislocated shoulder, though that had been set. He had some odd contraption on his lower jaw to help the fractured jawbone heal back into place. There was also a bandage across his head to keep the blood from flowing out of the wound there, which he had gotten from being thrown into the wall. He had a moderate concussion, the doctor had said. It didn't surprise him after having hit his head twice in a period of twenty-four hours. 

Lex drew in his breath slowly, feeling a sharp pain in his chest as he did so. He winced, though not loud enough for Clark to hear, because Clark had spent the entire hour since he had awaken fussing over every wince or expression of pain he made. He fingered the gauzy bandage that wrapped around his ribcage, protecting, as he had learned, two bruised ribs and one broken, which in combination made it very difficult for him to breathe comfortably. But he was lucky not to have more damage in that area, he knew. 

Lex knew that he must have looked like hell, but didn't care much about that either. He couldn't have looked much worse than he felt. What Lex was really thinking of was Clark. Clark knew that his father was the one responsible for his injuries, though he had no idea how. Thankfully, Clark hadn't brought up the subject since they had arrived at the hospital, and Lex was nowhere near eager to bring it up either. 

Lex couldn't even stand to meet Clark's eyes, knowing that his friend knew of all the years of broken bones, blood and bruises. He wouldn't be able to stand it if Clark began to look at him differently because of it, began to think of him as a fragile, battered child. He hated being fussed over like that. It made him feel weak, and his father had taught him painfully to hate that feeling. 

And he couldn't, or maybe just wouldn't, dare think of what Lionel would do if he found that, for whatever reason, Clark knew what he had done. 

Lex continued to stare out the window at the barren Kansas countryside, save for the never-ending fields of corn. No one could have ever called the landscape of this state beautiful, yet somehow, it had its own unique charm. 

There was a click as the door opened and closed, and Lex once again turned his attention to the world inside the small hospital room. 

The doctor who had examined him, whose name Lex couldn't remember if his life depended on it (no pun intended), appeared in the room. Lex blamed the inability to remember on his concussion, for he was usually good with names. It made people nervous if they knew that he could remember their names on his first try. It made them feel as if he _knew_ them, which made people very nervous and very intimidated. 

The doctor was in his mid-fifties at least. His face that may have once been attractive looked tied and worn out. His hair was gray, as well as the beard that covered most of the lower half of his face. Bushy eyebrows were below the man's broad forehead, creased with age, and sat comfortably over his blue eyes that had lost their sparkle. 

"Well Mr. Luthor," the man addressed formally upon entering, his voice dull and tired, "it seems as if we have patched up all of your injuries." 

The tiniest smile reached Lex's lips. "Does that mean that I can go now?" he inquired hopefully. Lex hated hospitals and wanted desperately to get out of this one before he was forced into a hospital gown or his father found out that he had been there with Clark. 

"Well, I wouldn't recommend it, but we can't force you to stay here," the doctor said. He looked over at Clark, then back at Lex once again. "I'll give you some time to figure out what you are going to do." 

The doctor nodded to both of them and was gone out of the room quickly. The second he was gone, Clark walked over to stand by Lex as he buttoned his shirt, which had been undone so that his ribs could be bandaged. "Lex, you should stay here. You're hurt," Clark insisted, gently taking his friend's arm to keep his steady. 

"Clark, you don't understand," Lex said. "I _can't_ stay here." 

Clark sighed, accepting that after a moment. There was a long period of silence as the statement hung between the two for just a moment too long. Clark wondered why his friend could not stay, but did not voice the question. Would his father hurt him even worse if he did? 

"Stay with me," Clark burst out suddenly. "At my house." Lex's features changed at the words. They softened a little at Clark's obvious show of caring for him. But after a second, he must have realized it, for his face returned to its usual stony mask. 

"Clark - " he began to protest. 

"No, Lex. Don't argue," Clark said, surprising them both with the firmness of his tone. It relaxed a bit as he spoke again. "You need someone to take care of you...even if you don't think so. If you won't let the doctors do it, then...let me," he said a little uncertainly. His voice became surer as he spoke again. " _Please_ let me take care of you." 

Silence again as Lex considered his friend's offer. "All right," Lex agreed after a second, his voice so soft that Clark almost couldn't make out the words. 

"Good," Clark said happily, flashing Lex one of his usual bright smiles. 

* * *

Clark parked his truck in front of his house, looking over at the man sitting beside him. Despite all of his injuries, Lex still looked like Lex. This was, Clark surmised, because all of the years of abuse he had just learned of were part of Lex. They had helped turn him into the man Clark knew. Though the experiences were painful and unnecessary, they had helped shape Lex's personality, his character. Clark understood that now, though he still knew that what Lionel Luthor had done was wrong. 

Clark exited the truck and went around to Lex's side of the vehicle to find him reaching his still functioning left arm across his body, fumbling with the handle of the door. Clark opened it for him. Lex appeared a little mad, seemingly because he knew that Clark thought that he couldn't take care of himself, but he said nothing. 

Lex began to step out of his seat, and Clark braced his hands around his friend's body, keeping him steady. "Clark, I'm _fine_ ," Lex insisted. "You really don't have to - " 

"Lex, you said you'd let me take care of you," Clark protested carefully, cutting him off. The two looked at each other for a minute and Lex finally gave in, letting Clark's gentle hands ease him out of the car slowly. Then, Clark helped him up the driveway, half letting Lex walk and half carrying him. 

Finally, the two reached the house. Clark opened the door for Lex and helped him into the house. Lex, surprising even himself, let Clark continue to fuss over him. He was beginning to get tired, and he knew that it made his friend feel better to be able to help. But more than that, it felt good to have someone actually caring for him for once. No one had genuinely cared for him like that since his mother had died nearly ten years before. 

Upon entering the house, they found both Kent parents sitting in the kitchen, obviously having taken a break from the farm work. Neither one of them seemed to see Clark and Lex entering the house, but after a second, Martha Kent spotted her son. 

"Clark!" she exclaimed. "Why aren't you at sch - " Her words cut off when she stopped abruptly as she spotted Lex beside him. She glanced quickly at all the casts and bandages on Lex's body before heading toward them. "Lex, are you all right?" 

She reached them and helped the injured Lex into a chair. "It's all right, Mrs. Kent. I'm fine," Lex protested. Martha Kent gave him a look that made it plainly obvious that she knew that he was lying. 

Jonathan Kent, to his credit, sat motionlessly in his seat, not saying a word. He was just staring at the scene, surprise and confusion filling his face, obviously not sure what to do or what to make of what had just happened. 

_You_ _can_ _act_ _normally_ , _Mr_. _Kent_ , Lex thought bitterly. _You_ _don't_ _have_ _to_ _act_ _nice_ _toward_ _me_ _just_ _because_ _I_ _got_ _the_ _shit_ _beaten_ _out_ _of_ _me_. 

But Lex did not dare vocalize his thoughts. He simply did not have the energy to deal with all the reactions that the Kent family would have to those words. Also, he did not know if he had the ability to summon up enough sarcasm to back the words up. 

"Lex," Mrs. Kent said, interrupting his thoughts. "What happened? Who did this to you?" 

Lex almost smiled at how similar her reaction was to her son's, but his facial muscles did not want to cooperate. Clark had obviously gotten his mother's caring and compassion. Lex was sure that he would have gotten the same from his own mother if his father had not attempted to beat all of it out of him. To Lionel, that, like so many other things, was a sign of weakness. 

Lex looked over at Martha, who was still waiting for an answer. Then, he looked at Clark, who he could tell wanted to tell his mother what was going on, but wasn't sure that it would be all right with Lex to tell her. Sighing, Lex decided to try to make them both happy. 

"My father has a very violent reaction to disobedience," Lex answered simply, almost automatically, his voice flat and emotionless. 

Martha Kent's eyes widened in surprise, but it was Jonathan Kent who spoke. "Are you saying that your father did - this to you?" he demanded. 

Lex tuned his attention to the older man. "Do you not think that my father is capable of it?" he questioned, his voice soft. He met Jonathan's eyes in an unnerving gaze, full of pain and hurt. 

Jonathan dropped his gaze, unable to keep eye contact when Lex had that look on his face. "I'd like to think that no father is capable of doing that to their own child," he mumbled, looking at the ground, the walls, anywhere but Lex's eyes. He couldn't stand that he had treated Lex so badly now that he knew that Lionel had done something so horrible to his son that none of them had known about. 

Lex looked at the three others in the room. He could tell that Jonathan Kent was beginning to feel guilty for the way he had treated him. Lex had thought that he would feel happier about that when it happened, but he didn't. He wanted his friend's father to treat him better, but not because of this. Not because Jonathan felt sorry for him because his father had hit him. Lex didn't want anyone's pity. He wanted Jonathan Kent to treat him better because he learned to respect him. 

Lex let his eyes drop closed, trying his best to block out the world. He didn't want to think about all the people that would treat him differently because of this. It was something he couldn't deal with just then. 

"Lex?" came Clark's worried voice. "Are you okay?" 

Lex rolled his eyes under his closed eyelids. A few minutes before, he had found Clark's concern for him touching, but it was just becoming irritating. His friend was treating him like he was fragile, like he was weak. He _wasn't_ , and he was tired of being treated differently because of his father's actions. Being weak was what had landed him in the hospital more times than he could count. He didn't like people making him feel like that. 

And more than any of that, he hated the fact that his best friend would probably never see him the same way again. He would begin to see Lex as a battered child, and Lex did not want that. He wanted Clark to think of him as an equal again. He wanted things to go back to the way they had been before Clark had learned what Lionel Luthor had been doing to his son. Knowing that Clark would see him that way was far worse than any beating that he had ever received. His father was ruining his life in more ways than one. 

Lex wanted to get away. He wanted to get away from the awkward conversations that he knew would come up and the people that judged him because of his father. Still, he knew that Clark wouldn't let him go anywhere. He would want Lex to stay because he didn't think he could take care of himself. But Lex had been taking care of himself for years. Anyway, where could he go? He was no longer safe in his own house. 

"Lex?" Clark repeated anxiously. 

Lex's eyes snapped open finally. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired," Lex replied automatically. 

Clark looked at his parents questioningly, who nodded. "Well, then you should get some rest. I can help you to the guestroom..." he trailed of, walking over to Lex to do just that. 

It made Lex's head hurt. "I can do it myself," Lex said, as nicely as he could muster is his condition. "Just tell me where it is." 

"It's upstairs, second door to the left," Clark said slowly, confused by Lex's sudden switch back to his stony, self-reliant behavior. "But are you sure that you can make it upstairs by yourself?" 

Lex shot him an icy look. "I'm not disabled, Clark," he snapped in annoyance. Then, he turned and went up the stairs. Clark watched as he disappeared into the guestroom, both perplexed and concerned by his friend's sudden attempt to detach himself from them. 

* * *

The Kent family watched silently for over a minute after Lex had disappeared into the guestroom. Jonathan Kent was confused, not only about Lex's behavior, but about his own feelings about the young Luthor. He had used to hate the man, but he was beginning to wonder if he had been wrong in his judgment. Martha Kent was just worried about Lex. She was a mother; she couldn't help it. And Clark was hurting simply because Lex was hurting and because there was no way he could understand what his best friend was going through. There was nothing he could do to help ease Lex's pain. 

"Don't worry about Lex, honey," Mrs. Kent soothed, finally breaking the silence. "He's been through a lot and he's just trying to deal. Give him some time. Actually, I'm surprised that he's dealing so well as it is." 

"Yeah, well he's had nearly ten years to `deal' with it," Clark said sourly. 

"Ten _years_ ," they heard Jonathan echo in a whisper to himself, his voice filled with disbelief. "Damn." 

"I just wish that I could help Lex," Clark confided to his parents. "I wish that he would _let_ me. But every time I think he's letting me in, he starts pushing me away." 

There was another quick moment of silence before Clark's mother spoke again. "Well, you can't exactly blame Lex for having trust issues, Clark. It doesn't seem like anyone in his life has ever made him feel that he can trust them. If you've gone through life without anyone to trust, it's hard to break that mindset." 

"I know," Clark whispered in reply. "I wish he could learn to trust me. But according to his father, trust is probably a sign of weakness. Just like anything else that involves any kind of emotions. Lex has spent his whole life believing that emotions are weaknesses, and his father taught him how horrible it is to be weak." 

The thoughts that came along with the words he was speaking made Clark sick. He couldn't think of what would happen to Lex if he continued avoiding all emotional connections like that. Clark feared that if his friend continued to follow that road, he would soon find himself unable to feel at all, unable to care about anyone or anything. Clark didn't want to think of what that could lead to. 

"That's a horrible way to live," Jonathan Kent said, his voice quiet and thoughtful. 

"Within a one hundred mile radius of Lionel Luthor is a horrible way to live," Clark countered, his voice thick with sarcasm. There was silence again before Clark's voice became serious. "I was so scared when I found Lex," he whispered. 

"That's understandable, considering - " Martha started. 

"No, Mom, it's _not_ something that is understandable," Clark corrected. "I _was_ afraid for Lex, but that wasn't what scared me the most. When I thought about what his father did to him...I've never wanted to hurt someone so much in my entire life. For a second, I didn't care about how wrong it is or the consequences. I just wanted to hurt Lionel Luthor - to kill him even. I wanted to make him feel everything he has made Lex feel. I wanted to force him to bear all that pain just the way he has made Lex suffer through it." 

Neither of the Kent parents had anything to say to that. They both knew that Clark was capable of killing Lionel. They both knew that he deserved it. Still, they knew that they had raised their son with enough self-control to keep him from doing something so horrible. Or at least they hoped so. 

Finally, Clark spoke again. 

"I have to go out for awhile. I don't think I'll be gone very long, but if Lex goes to sleep and I'm gone more than two hours, wake him up to make sure that he still knows who he is because of the concussion. 

"Also, could you find a safe place to put this stuff that I got from the hospital? They gave us some pain medication for Lex and a cream to put on the bruises." 

"Where are you going, Clark?" Mrs. Kent asked, her voice anxious. 

"Relax, Mom. I'm just getting some of Lex's other clothes from his house for him to wear later," Clark assured her. "The ones he's wearing have blood on them." 

* * *

Rummaging through Lex's closet, Clark pulled out a few pairs of pants and some loose-fitting shirts to accommodate for his injuries. It had taken Clark longer than he had expected to get the clothes, mostly because he hadn't known where Lex's room was. It had taken him quite a while to look through all the room to find the one where Lex's stuff was. That, and he had been wary of the elder Luthor's return. 

The pile of Lex's clothes in hand, Clark walked back down the hallway toward the stairs. On the way, he came to the ornamental double doors of the library. 

Clark stopped outside the door. This was where it had happened. Where Clark had found his friend lying in a bloody heap on the floor. He shivered, thinking again of how horrible Lex had looked when he had found him. Then, before Clark knew what was happening, his hand was reaching out toward the door handle. 

Clark slowly opened the door to the library and stepped inside. He closed it almost silently behind him, not quite sure why he was being so quiet. But the air in the room made him feel as if he should not disturb all the pain that resided inside those walls. Lex could have very well died in the room Clark was standing in, and he knew it. He knew it all too well. 

Still trying to make very little noise, Clark walked over to Lex's desk and placed the pile of clothing on top of it. As he did so, he noticed drops of blood on the desktop as well as the floor behind it. 

Trying his best to ignore the vision of Lex's injuries he got when he saw the blood, Clark turned to look back at the place where he had found Lex. In his mind, he could still see the image of Lex's body lying limply against the wall, atop what Clark could now see were many pools of his own dried blood. Clark shook the image away quickly and walked over to survey the spot once again, though he had no idea why he felt compelled to do so. 

Looking at the area where he had found Lex, he finally saw how much blood Lex had actually lost, how horrible and painful his injuries had actually been. How had Lex been able to show no pain to him when he had bled away all the blood that now spilled across the floor? The floor was simply covered in the blood that had flowed from the wounds that Lex's own father had created. 

He could also see a crack in the wall paneling where Lex's head had presumably hit it. Clark was surprised that Lex's head injury was not worse than it was with as hard as it looked like it had hit the wall. How hard had Lionel had to throw Lex to make the wall panels crack in like that? 

But that was not what grabbed Clark's attention the most. About a foot to the left of the cracked panel, there was a small hole drilled into the wall. Had he not been surveying the crack in the wall near it, Clark never would have noticed it was there. And out of the drilled hole, there was something small and black protruding just slightly. 

Curious, Clark tried to move the black thing from the hole. It barely moved, but for his troubles, Clark was rewarded with a high-pitched screeching the suddenly echoed through the whole room. It sounded somewhat like microphone feedback. Clark covered his ears, but the screeching faded away after a couple of seconds. 

Even more intrigued than before, Clark once again tried to pry the small black device from the wall. This time he succeeded, the black thing falling from the hole in the wall onto the floor in front of it. It landed in a pool of not quite dry blood and began to crackle, sparks flying off of it in all directions and the sound of feedback once again filling the room. 

Thankfully, the device stopped sparking after a second and the loud screeching noise came to an abrupt halt. Cautiously, Clark picked the black thing up out of the pool of Lex's blood. 

It was a tiny microphone. 

Clark gasped and dropped the microphone once again. Someone had been bugging the castle. He _had_ to go tell Lex. 

* * *

Lionel Luthor sat alone in his car as he watched the Kent boy exit the castle at a run, a bundle of what he could tell was his son's clothing in hand. Lionel had come by the castle earlier, partly to see if Lex had learned his lesson and partly because he enjoyed reveling in his own success, but he had found the house empty, with no trace of his son besides all the blood he had spilled onto the floor and a nasty crack on the wall. Lionel would have to remind himself to yell at the carpenter that had placed the wall panels. Or maybe threaten him. He hadn't paid hundreds of dollars on it for it to crack at the slightest pressure. 

But at least there was a reward for coming back to see if he could ascertain what had happened to Lex. It seemed that he had now found out where his son had mysteriously disappeared to. There could be no other reasonable explanation for Clark Kent to be taking his son's clothing. 

Lionel looked thoughtfully into the distance as Clark disappeared from sight. Maybe the reason that Lex continued to be so defiant _was_ his teaching methods, just as Lex had suggested. But it seemed that Lex deeply cared for this boy, Clark. Clark was Lex's biggest weakness. He wouldn't let any son of his have such weaknesses. And on top of that, Clark now knew their secret. 

He could easily kill two birds with one stone, for Lionel realized how to teach his son a lesson he would never forget, while at the same time protecting their secret. Lionel smiled cruelly as the thought entered his mind. 

Clark Kent had to be eliminated. 

* * *

Lex walked along a seemingly endless wall of trees, his shoes making muffled swishing noises as they slid across the tall green grass. The sun was shining brightly, bathing Lex's pale face in its warming orange glow. The sky was blue and cloudless overhead, though he could see dark storm clouds looming over the woods to his right side. His casts and bruises were all gone, and he didn't feel the persistent aching in his body. Lex had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there, but he liked where he was. He didn't want to leave. 

Looking into the dark, forlorn forest he stood beside, Lex became sure that that was where he had come from. It seemed so familiar; the place that was all shadows and had black clouds lingering defiantly over it, blocking out all sunlight no matter how hard it tried to shine through the thick black blanket. Nor could the light get though the thick canopy of trees that further shaded the area from all the light of the outside world. The wood seemed so familiar to him... 

And yet, here he stood in the sunlight and greenery, not quite part of the darkness of that wood, but still unable to escape it. Lex had no idea how he had broken away from the blackened forest and he didn't care. He was just glad to be rid of it. He didn't want to go back into the darkness. 

Suddenly, a voice echoed from all around Lex, both from the light that he now stood in and the darkness beside him, as if the voice was part of both. 

"I never meant for it to be like this for you, Lex." 

Lex glanced around, searching for the source of the feathery-sounding feminine voice. It seemed to be coming from everywhere around him, and yet it was nowhere. There was no one visible, but Lex knew somewhere deep down that someone was there. The voice sounded as familiar to him as the woods felt, perhaps even more so. And it was a pleasant feeling that this woman's voice gave him, not the horrible thing he sensed inside of him when he thought about the darkness. He could recall hearing this soft, sad-sounding voice before, but he could not place it. The miserable sound to this voice was so foreign, and yet he knew that he had heard it before. 

"Lex," another voice said, this time coming only from the direction of the woods. It was a different voice this time, younger and sounding obviously more masculine. 

Lex could feel himself drifting toward the sound of the voice, back into the horrible darkness of the woods. The sunlight and the green grass and the blue sky that had just seconds ago stood before him were beginning to tear themselves to shreds, until only the blackness was left. He wanted the scene to stay; wanted to stay away from that black forest and the clouds that were promising a huge storm would erupt, but found that he held no control over the way his body was moving. He knew that he was destined to go back to that place. He had no choice. He wanted to scream at the prospect of returning, but his vocal cords would not work. 

So Lex watched helplessly as the scene before him melted away and he returned once again to the darkness. 

* * *

"Lex," the voice repeated as Lex felt himself being lightly shaken by strong hands. Lex groaned, not wanting to open his eyes. 

Then he noticed the pain. It was everywhere, seemingly shooting up and down every single nerve in his body. His body ached and there was a screaming pain in his head and his right arm felt as if someone had removed it, put it through a blender, then reattached it to his body and he just _hurt_. All over. 

"Lex?" the voice said a third time, a bit more anxious than it had been before. Finally, Lex remembered where he was. He was in the Kent house and that was Clark's voice he was hearing. He tried to open his eyes, but that took too much effort and, God, it just hurt so much. 

Lex opened his mouth and tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. He tried to summon some saliva into his mouth, but he could not. His mouth stayed parched. 

"Clark?" he said, his voice coming out as an odd croak because of the dryness of his mouth. The sound was almost unrecognizable as his own voice. 

Seconds later, Clark was helping him ease his body into a sitting position and propped him up on a pile of pillows. Then, a glass of cool water was being held to his lips, which Lex drank greedily. Finally, the water was gone and was able to open his eyes. Clark sat on the edge of the bad, his eyes locked on Lex. 

"Hey," he said softly when Lex's eyes opened. "How are you feeling?" 

Lex smiled wryly, trying to show his friend that he was all right. "I feel like someone threw me off a cliff while I was sleeping," he joked half-heartedly. 

Clark nodded but said nothing. He picked up the empty water glass off the nightstand and left the room to refill it. He came back into the room with the full glass in one hand and a couple of pills in the other. He placed them into Lex's hand and with a look commanded him to take the pills. Lex didn't even think for a second about refusing. He was still too tired and in too much pain to argue. 

After taking the pills and handing the once again empty glass to Clark, Lex settled back into his pile of pillows, trying his best to get comfortable. Almost immediately, Clark spoke. 

"Lex, I'm sorry." 

Lex looked over at the younger man, whose features were apologetic. Lex sighed, but decided to humor him. "Why are you sorry, Clark?" he asked, a tiny bit of impatience in his voice. "You have nothing to be sorry about." 

"I'm sorry that I upset you earlier. I don't mean to make this harder for you." 

Another sigh. "That's the point, Clark. I don't need you to shelter me from anything. I don't need to be treated like I can't handle anything myself. I can," Lex insisted. Suddenly, his voice became softer, sounding very little like Lex's usual confident tone. "I don't want you to think of me any differently. I don't want you to think that I'm weak." 

Clark looked at his friend unbelievingly. " _That's_ what you think? That I think that you're weak?" Clark asked incredulously. "Lex, this doesn't make me think that you're weak. If anything, it makes me think that you're stronger; to have been through all that you have in your life and be able to become the person that you are now is amazing. You've become a great person _despite_ what your father has put you through. You're the strongest person I know, Lex." 

The tiniest smile lit Lex's face. Clark could tell that his words really meant something to Lex, even if he could not say it. 

"There's something else," Lex said after a second, reading the look on Clark's face. It was not a question. 

"Yeah," Clark confirmed. He took a deep breath before speaking again. "Lex, your house is bugged." 

"I know," Lex answered immediately, without thinking. "My father did it. That's how he knew that - " Suddenly, Lex stopped speaking, obviously regretting his words. 

"How he knew what?" Clark asked, worried by his friend's sudden silence. 

Lex bit the inside of his cheek nervously. Clark had never seen him so unsure of himself, so fidgety. "Nothing, Clark," he tried to dismiss after a moment. "It's not important." 

Clark began to become frustrated. He had been beginning to think that Lex was starting to trust him and open up to him, but now Lex was beginning to retreat back behind the thick firewalls that he kept tightly sealed around his emotions. Clark had no idea what had caused the sudden detachment, but he wanted to find out. 

"It _is_ important," Clark insisted. "Please, just tell me." 

Lex looked sorrowfully at his friend. The boy looked pitiful. It made Lex feel like he had just done something horrible, like kick a puppy. Actually, it made him feel worse than that, because he hated putting one of the very few people who he cared about in a situation where they had to feel the way that Clark's face said that he felt. Still, he had a feeling that telling him the truth could have an even worse affect on the psyche of the innocent teenager. 

But Lex could not resist that face. He took a deep breath, then spoke, completely on autopilot. There was no emotion in his words. 

"That's how my father knew that I had spoken to you about my injuries. That's how he knew that I left the house after. He thought that I went after you to tell you what was going on somewhere where I knew that he _couldn't_ hear me." 

Clark looked at the injured man lying on the bed, perplexed. "What made him think that you told me anything? You didn't say anything to me in the house where he could have overheard," Clark stated. Immediately after the words left his mouth, Lex averted his eyes and kept silent. 

"Lex?" Clark prodded. 

"He found out that Chloe was investigating," Lex answered finally. "He assumed she was working off of some information that I gave to you that you in turn gave to her." 

Clark's eyes widened. "I _did_ tell Chloe something," he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. He could feel tears stinging his eyes. "I'm the one who got her interested so she started investigating. If I hadn't said anything...what he did to you - it was my fault," he said guiltily. "I should have kept my mouth shut," - Clark's tone became slightly more frantic - "God, why didn't I keep my mouth shut?" 

Lex glanced over at his friend sympathetically. He closed his eyes for a minute to collect himself. "Clark, it's not your - " Lex opened his eyes and stopped short. 

Clark was no longer in the room. 

* * *

Clark weaved his way out of the house, ignoring the looks he got from his parents. He could not stand the feeling of knowing that he was in any way responsible for what Lionel Luthor had done to his son. It was so horrible, so _inhuman_ , and he hated that he helped bring all that pain onto his best friend. Lex had made it obvious that he didn't want Clark or anyone else knowing what was going on. Why hadn't he just taken the hint and stayed out of it? Maybe then Lionel would not have hurt Lex so badly. 

Still, Clark knew that Lex needed him, whether he would admit it or not. He knew that he had to go back to Lex eventually, but he kept running, getting as far away from the house as possible. He needed some time...to clear his head, collect himself, process everything...or something like that. He wasn't quite sure, but he knew that he could not face Lex or his parents or anyone just then. Not when he was feeling so guilty. 

Clark slowed to a walk, trying to figure out where he was going. After a couple minutes of aimless walking, Clark decided to head to the woods. He wanted some time to be alone, and he knew that the woods were almost always deserted. In the woods he could have some time completely to himself to just think, which was exactly what he needed. He needed to sort things out. 

Resolved that that was what he was going to do, Clark changed direction slightly, almost not realizing that he was running again. He knew that he was just trying to escape a situation that he found too hard to deal with, but he didn't care. 

Finally, Clark entered the large, thick cluster of tress. He walked slowly to avoid the low-hanging branches. Almost immediately, Clark stepped out of the trees into a small clearing. Near the edge of the clearing sat a large rock, just large enough to sit upon comfortably, even for Clark's tall body. It was a perfect place to sit quietly and think. 

When Clark began to seat himself on the rock, there was a large crack in the woods behind him, something like a twig or a branch breaking. Clark's head shot up in reflex, but he immediately relaxed and ignored the sound. He was too jumpy. It was probably just a raccoon or a squirrel or something. He was sitting in the middle of the woods, after all. 

Bringing his mind back to Lex, Clark felt tears begin to sting his eyes. He felt even more guilty the more he thought about what had happened. He had fucking superpowers for godsakes. He saved the town from mutants on almost a regular basis, but he couldn't even manage to save his best friend from his completely human father. Instead, he gave the bastard extra incentive to hurt Lex. 

Clark lowered his head into his hands, unable to hold his emotions in any longer. 

* * *

Lex sat in the Kent's guestroom for a few minutes, trying to decide if he should go after Clark. He didn't know how he could make the boy realize that it really wasn't his fault what Lex's father had done to him. The only thing that Clark had done was create an excuse for Lionel, though he rarely needed an excuse. He probably would have ended up hurting Lex anyway. 

Deciding that he had to go after Clark, Lex eased his body out of the bed, ignoring the pain that filled his body at the unwelcome movement. He padded down the stairs as fast and as efficiently as his injured body would allow him. He was determined to find Clark and talk to him. He couldn't let Clark continue to think that he was to blame for something he really had no control over. Clark already seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders; he didn't need this extra burden. 

However, when Lex reached the bottom of the staircase, he found only the two Kent parents, both staring motionlessly at the front door with perplexed expressions on their faces. Neither of them seemed to even notice Lex's presence, though that fact mattered very little to Lex at that moment. 

"Where's Clark?" Lex asked as soon as he ascertained that the teenager was not in the room. 

Both adults turned abruptly, startled by Lex's voice. They both took a moment to compose themselves after the brief scare. Finally, Martha Kent spoke. "Lex, what are you doing down here?" she asked, taking a very motherly tone with him for the second time that day. "You should be in bed." 

"I'm _fine_ ," Lex insisted as Martha began to fuss with the sling that held his injured right shoulder in place. "I just want to know where Clark went." 

"We don't know," Jonathan Kent answered gruffly. "He just rushed down the stairs a few minutes ago and left the house without a word to either of us. Any idea what could make him act like that?" Mr. Kent's tone was accusing, as if he knew that Lex had something to do with it. Obviously, his newfound respect for Lex only went so far. It became conspicuously absent at any time when Jonathan even suspected that he had hurt Clark, Lex noticed. He almost smiled. 

"I think he blames himself for what happened to me," Lex said straightforwardly. "He feels that he's responsible for what my father did." 

Mr. Kent gave Lex a cold look that was so familiar. "And I wonder who gave him that idea," he said sardonically. It was obvious now that Lex had gone back onto Jonathan Kent's "Scourges of my Very Existence" list. 

" _Jonathan_ ," Mrs. Kent scolded, aghast at the tone that her husband was using with Lex. "Honestly, with all the boy has been through..." 

Lex knew that Martha Kent was constantly playing the peacemaker and he usually appreciated it, but he cut her off. "It's all right, Mrs. Kent. He has every right to be mad. I did put that idea in Clark's head," Lex admitted, his tone reverting to its most arrogant. Arrogance was one of Lex's main defense mechanisms. "It doesn't matter that it was unintentional. I should have known better than to say something like that around Clark. Maybe it's the concussion." 

Immediately, Jonathan Kent dropped his eyes, the memory of what Lionel Luthor had done making him regret his words. That, of course, had been Lex's aim. The man should have been able to take what he dished out. He should have known that Lex could still be manipulative, even in his weakened state. The statement wasn't quite up to Lex's usual par, but it would do in a pinch. 

The shrill ringing of the phone broke the uncomfortable silence a few seconds later. Grateful for an excuse to escape, Jonathan Kent mumbled something about expecting a call and went to answer the phone. 

Lex watched the older man as he picked the phone off the cradle. He said hello then began to listen to what the caller was saying. Suddenly, he began to grip the receiver very tightly, his knuckles whitening. His face became pale. 

Lex's brow furrowed as he watched Mr. Kent listen to the caller nervously for a few seconds. Then, he offered the phone to a surprised Lex, his hand trembling so much that he almost dropped the phone. 

* * *

Clark had no idea how long he had been sitting in the woods. It seemed like hours, but Clark had no way to tell how long it had really been. He thought for a second about using his x-ray vision to see past the trees so he could see the sun's position in the sky, but decided against it. He didn't really care about how much time had passed. It didn't matter. 

All of a sudden. Clark felt his body being wrenched upwards and cool, sharp steel was pressed against his throat. The familiar sickening sensation passed over his body and as Clark looked down at his hands, he saw that his veins were protruding and glowing green, a sign that meteor rocks were near. Beads of sweat began to drip down Clark's face as he tried to struggle away from the iron-like grip that held him in place, but whatever meteor rocks were near made him too weak, too sick. 

The hand holding Clark gripped him tighter, nearly cutting off the circulation to his arm. "I suggest that you do not struggle," the man holding Clark said quietly into his ear. The voice was easily recognizable as Lionel Luthor's. "If you move too much, I might accidentally cut your throat, and we can't have that before my dear son shows up to `save' you." 

"The knife..." Clark trailed off as he saw a green glow coming from that direction. There was a sinking sensation in his stomach as he realized that it contained a meteor rock. But Lionel couldn't know what the rocks did to him... 

"Ah, yes," Lionel said, putting the blade in front of Clark's face while still keeping his grip tight enough that he could not escape. The knife in front of his face was freshly sharpened, with a silver double-edged blade and a decorative hilt with a suspicious stone glowing green set into the end. Clark gasped. 

"I got a knife set with meteor rocks from your own pitiful little town," Lionel said, confirming Clark's suspicions. "Think about being killed by the trademark of your own town. It's quite poetic, isn't it?" Lionel asked rhetorically. 

Clark continued to struggle against Lionel's strong grip, but to no avail. "It's the perfect murder weapon," Lionel taunted evilly. 

_If_ _only_ _he_ _knew_ _how_ _true_ _that_ _is_ , Clark thought weakly. 

* * *

Lex stared closely at the phone in Jonathan Kent's trembling hand. His hand was shaking almost as violently as Earl had during that terrifying experience on Level Three. Something that the caller had said had obviously scared Mr. Kent very much, and Lex knew that he was a man that was not easily intimidated. Slowly, Lex took the receiver into his own hand and held it to his ear. 

The person on the other end seemed to sense that Lex had gotten it and spoke. The calm, vindictive voice was the last thing in the in the world that Lex wanted to hear. 

"Hello son," Lionel Luthor said simply, but his tone was far from caring and sincere, as a father's voice is expected to be when he is greeting his son. He was cruel and almost taunting. 

"How did you know I was here?" Lex asked dully. 

Lionel chuckled just as dryly. "You're not quite as clever as you think you are, Lex," he replied, a hint of threat in his voice. The threat became a lot clearer a few seconds later. "Plus, I had a little bit of help from a friend of yours." 

Suddenly, another voice came from the receiver. It sounded farther away than Lionel's, but only just slightly. " _Lex_..." the voice trailed off weakly. Lex could easily recognize this voice anywhere, yet he had never heard Clark sounding so weak and sick before. But now, he sounded very sick, almost as if he was about to faint. It tore Lex's heart out to hear his best friend like that. 

"What have you done to Clark?" Lex demanded angrily. 

Lex could sense his father's evil smile even through the phone lines. "Nothing...yet. But for some reason, he does seem _awfully_ sick," Lionel drawled sarcastically. "I fear he may need immediate medical attention." 

"You bastard," was Lex's only response. 

"Trading curses with me will accomplish nothing, Lex. If you want to save your friend, pissing me off is not the way to do it, you must know that. I hope that I have at least taught you that much." 

"All right, _Dad_ ," Lex said bitterly. "What will help me to save his life?" 

"For once, you have to begin to do what I say. You have to obey me. And no tricks, or the boy dies," Lionel answered, clearly pleased with himself and his little plan to control his son. It sickened Lex, but he knew he had no choice. He had to swallow his pride and do what Lionel said. It was Clark's life on the line and that was more important than anything. 

"Fine," Lex forced out through gritted teeth. "What do you want?" 

"Come to the castle _alone_ if you want any hope of saving your friend. And remember, you must obey me expressly, and no deception, or you get to watch him die right in front of you." 

There was a _click_ as Lionel hung up the phone. Thinking about the prospect of having to watch Clark die scared him. His airway felt constricted, much like it had during his asthma attacks when he was a child. He had to take a moment to calm his breathing and fully collect himself. 

Still, Lex simply stood there stiffly for several minutes, the dial tone ringing in his ear, unable to move and unable to process what was going on. Finally, he carefully replaced the phone onto the cradle. He felt numb and everything had a dreamlike quality. He had known that his father was an evil bastard, but this was something else. It clearly exceeded his father's usual viscous cruelty. He couldn't believe his father could really be _this_ dreadful. He felt like this was all some horrible nightmare and he would wake up to a father who was only _slightly_ evil and did _not_ just kidnap and threaten to kill his best friend right in front of him. 

"Lex, what's going on?" Martha questioned worriedly a second later. 

"My father - he - he has Clark." 

" _What_?" Mrs. Kent said frantically, hoping that she had heard Lex wrong. "He has Clark?" 

Lex nodded reluctantly, new pain blossoming behind his eyes. "He says he hasn't hurt him, but my father is known to be a compulsive liar. And Clark sounded sick, like he was about to pass out or something," Lex answered distantly, rubbing his painful head with his still-functioning arm. 

"Oh God," she gasped, realizing what was going on. She looked over at her husband, hoping he had realized it as well. His wide eyes seemed to signal that he had. "Jonathan, what do we do?" she asked. 

"You do nothing," Lex answered for him. " _I_ have to go down to the castle and get him. It's my fault that he's in this situation in the first place - " 

"Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself," Jonathan Kent said, sounding annoyed. "You're not at fault for your father's actions." 

"Really?" Lex asked rhetorically. "Because the rest of the world seems to blame me for the things that my father does. You do too. You treat me like crap because my last name is Luthor! So don't even try the `my father's actions are not my fault' defense if you don't really believe it. 

"Plus, it's the only way. If I don't go, my father will kill him." 

"At least let us go with you," Martha offered. 

"No." 

"He's our son, Lex," Jonathan Kent pressed, having recovered from Lex's previous emotional blow. "We can't just stay here calmly while your father puts his life in danger! We can't just sit and do nothing!" 

"Yes, you can," Lex said authoritatively. "And you will. My father said that if I don't go alone, he'll kill Clark. I can't let that happen. If Clark dies, I'll never forgive myself, and I know that you two won't either. So you're staying. And I'm going." Lex gave them a look as to add `and that's final' to his words. Even as badly injured as he was, Lex Luthor was still very commanding. 

Jonathan and Martha Kent exchanged a glance, and they knew that they were both thinking the same thing. Normally, Clark could not be injured, not be killed. But neither of them knew what prolonged exposure to the meteor rocks would do to him, and that was what they suspected Lionel Luthor had in his possession. Not only that, but things affected him differently when the rocks were around. They weakened him. So, was it possible that if Lionel Luthor had Clark near meteor rocks, he _could_ injure Clark, even kill him? 

Finally, Martha Kent looked up at Lex. "And what about you, Lex?" she asked. "You're already seriously injured. What if you die? Then Clark will never forgive himself." 

"Well, that's a chance I'm willing to take. If one of us has to die, it should be me. There are so many good things Clark can do. His life means so much more than mine," Lex said, a sense of finality in his voice. 

* * *

Lionel Luthor parked his car outside of the castle just as he hung up the phone with his son. Clark was still quite unable to fight back, as the close proximity of the small sports car kept the meteor rock knife too near for him to fight off its influence, and trying to fight it was tiring his already weak body out very rapidly. 

Clark was wrenched violently out of the car seconds later and the offending item was once again pressed to his throat. The sharp blade hurt, and usually something so trivial would barely register to him. It was the meteor rock, he supposed, making him more sensitive to pain. 

He was led inside by a very determined Lionel Luthor, and before he knew what was happening, they were in the dining room. This had been the room where Clark had first noticed the injuries that Lionel had given his son. 

_Take_ _that_ _for_ _poetic_ , Clark thought. 

But what Clark saw on the dining room table made him cam down quite a bit. First, there was a large metal box, but Clark had no idea what was inside. But next to it sat a small handgun. Maybe, Clark hoped, just maybe, if Lionel decided to switch to using the gun, he would put the knife down far enough away for Clark to be able to fight the meteor's influence. There was hope. 

Lionel threw him roughly to the ground, and, just as he had wished, began to walk over to the table, bringing the knife with him. He seemed content that Clark would not try to run; though with as sick as he was undoubtedly looking, Lionel probably correctly figured that he _couldn't_ run, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

As Lionel began to walk in the direction opposite him, Clark began to feel the affect of the meteor rock on him lessening. Clark felt the sick feeling leaving his body as he closely eyed Lionel's retreating back. Just a few more feet... 

"So," Lionel mused, turning to speak to the boy for the first time since they had arrived at the castle. He was still not far enough away to give Clark enough strength to make a large movement, and unluckily, he had stopped walking to talk to Clark. "Which method of killing you do you think would have a more lasting effect on Lex: slitting your throat or shooting you? I just couldn't decide." 

Lionel's tone was quite cheerful, as if he was talking about nothing harsher than what type of flowers to send his son for his birthday. It was clear that he was just trying to taunt Clark with the fact that he had control over if he lived or died. 

Clark said nothing. 

"Hmm, such a silent boy. I wish that my son could be more like you in that way. Too bad you don't get to teach him that before you have to die." 

Clark still kept his silence, concentrating only on the meteor rock that was traveling farther away by the second as Lionel once again began to walk away. The strength that was flooding quickly back into his body. 

Lionel came to stand in front of the metal box, which Clark could now tell was made out of lead. If Lionel would only take one more step away from him, Clark thought he would finally have barely enough strength to fight off the meteor's influence and get away. Just one more step... 

Lionel opened the lead box. 

Inside were at least a dozen knives that were almost identical to the one that Lionel was holding, all with a green, glowing meteor rock on the hilt. Lionel had obviously wanted to be prepared with tons of spare knives. 

The new meteor rocks sent a new wave of sickness over Clark's body. Clark sighed and closed his eyes, giving up. There was no way he would be able to get away now. 

* * *

A pickup truck drove up and parked in front of the Luthor castle. Should anyone have chosen that exact second to take a peek past the tall gate or drive by, they would have thought nothing of the sight. This is because every resident of Smallville knew that the truck belonged to the Kent family, and that the Kent's teenage son, Clark, was a close friend of Lex Luthor. The truck was a familiar sight at that house. 

But it was not Clark Kent who stepped out of that truck. It wasn't even any known member of the Kent family. It was, in fact, Lex Luthor. 

A person who chose _that_ moment to look onto the Luthor property would immediately know that something strange was going on. Everyone was so used to seeing Lex Luthor speeding through the streets in a Ferrari or a Porsche, or at the very least, a Jaguar. All of the cars that Lex was ever seen even in the presence of were expensive little two-seater sports cars. 

But this was no sports car. It was about as far away from a sports car as one could possibly get. Nor was it the type of car you would expect a person to break many driving laws in; at least not to Lex's usual degree of severity. 

The second any person got a look at Lex's appearance, they would know that not only was something out of the ordinary, something was terribly, horribly wrong. They would see the numerous bandages that adorned Lex's body, the purplish-blue bruises showing just barely out from under the gauzy bandages. They would see that Lex's right arm was in a sling, and his jaw was nearly wired shut. _Lex_ _Luthor_ , who usually came off as the arrogant, invincible rich boy. 

And on top of all that, there was the fear in Lex's eyes. And the way that Lex's body was shaking; slightly enough that it was almost unnoticeable, but shaking nonetheless. It would be alarming to any remotely sane person to see someone who seemed terrified to enter their own home. It spoke of horrible, unspeakable things that must have happened inside that home. 

But no one saw Lex as he walked slowly up to the front door, his usual confident stride conspicuously absent. The tension in his body was obvious, as well as the overwhelming pain. Had anyone looked out at the Luthor residence, they might have noticed that Lex seemed to be anticipating that something horrible would happen. They might have found a way to prevent the horrific things that were happening inside at that very moment; the horrific things that were about to happen. 

But no one saw what was going on. No one cared enough to pay attention. They never had. 

* * *

Lionel Luthor glanced down at his watch impatiently. The gun still sat in his hand, though he didn't know that the real weapon was the box that lay open just inches from the place that he stood, filled with double edged knives with one Smallville's famous meteor rocks set into each of the hilts. 

He didn't know why Clark Kent lay there against the wall, unable to move and unable to fight. He didn't know why Clark was in such pain, writhing on the floor and only half-conscious. He knew only of his desire to punish his son, at any cost, and with no regard for the life of another human being. 

Lionel's head snapped up as the front door clicked open and slammed shut just seconds later. He smiled cruelly in anticipation of what was to happen next. 

"Where are you, Dad?" Clark heard Lex shout, his voice sounding strangely distant. It was as if he was hearing everything through a thick fog. Everything seemed dreamlike, yet the anger and the pain in Lex's tired voice was all too real. 

"In the dining room, son," Lionel replied, sounding sickly amused. "I hope that you followed my instructions. One toe gets set out of line and your precious little farm boy meets his tragic end." 

Clark wanted to object to the use of the phrase "precious little farm boy" in regard to himself, but he could not find the strength to do so. 

Seconds later, Lex stepped through the doorway. He looked as if he had aged at least ten years since the last time Clark had seen him. His tiredness and injury were evident in the way his body sagged slightly as he moved, his actions sluggish. The worry that was in his expression further aged his worn face. 

Not that being bald really helped the matter either. 

"I'm alone." 

Lionel looked around as if he had Clark's ability to see through solid objects, trying to see if Lex was lying. After a second, he looked at his son's face, and seemed content with the fact that what Lex was saying was the truth. 

His smile grew wider. "I knew that I would find a way to teach you who is in charge," Lionel said, his voice laced with cruel confidence. "I'll teach you to accept your destiny. Maybe we'll make a strong leader out of you yet." 

Lex stared at his father, irritated and incredulous. "It seems to me that you're teaching me more how to be a submissive follower than a strong leader," he retorted, his eyes flickering worriedly over to Clark for just an instant, as if he hoped that his father would not spot what he would think of as a display of weakness. 

"Nonsense, Lex. By learning to obey, you will know how to command," Lionel corrected his son. "And I _will_ make you a strong leader. Who else can command the weak-willed idiots that inhabit the world today? They need people like you and I to tell them how to act. After all, and army of deer led by a lion is stronger than an army of lions led by a deer. The only question is who you want to be: the deer trying to lead the hungry lions, or the lion presiding over his army." 

Lex rolled his eyes. "Your cynical life philosophies are unimpressive, Dad. We're not going to war." 

"I swear, each conversation I have with you makes me feel more and more as if I have taught you nothing. Life _is_ war, son. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you can learn the best battle strategies that will make you the victor." 

Lex shook his head in disgust. "Drop the bullshit life and war analogies. We both know what you`re trying to do here." 

Lionel cocked his head slightly to the side, as if daring his son to continue. He did. 

"I don't get you, Dad. Not at all. You say that you want to raise a son that is a strong-willed leader.." 

Lionel looked as if he was about to restate that Lex was weak and needed guidance, but Lex did not give him that chance. 

"...and then you get upset when that's what you end up with. Is it just that you expect nothing but the best, that nothing in this world will please you? Or is it that you're just afraid that if I become a leader too soon, you won't be able to control me?" 

Lionel opened his mouth to make a comment, but Lex was too busy with his angry rant to let his father get a word in edgewise. 

"News flash, Dad: You have never been able to control me. Haven't you noticed that no matter what you do, no matter how badly you hurt me, I still manage to get my way out of what you want me to do? I think I know what it really is. You think that if you let me `fulfill my destiny' as you call it, right now, I will become too powerful and I will be the victor over even you. You're afraid that I'll have more power than you ever had in your grasp." 

The minute he finished, Lex knew that he had gone too far. In three purposeful strides, Lionel was level with his son. He drew his hand back quickly, and it connected with Lex's face. The wire that held his previously broken jawbone into place dug into his skin as father struck son, sending blood dripping down his neck to meet the collar of his shirt. Lex stumbled backwards, staying on his feet only because his back suddenly connected with the wall behind him. 

As Clark watched this "fatherly display of affection," he felt anger bubbling up inside of him. He hated anyone that could do that to Lex, and having to see it made it so much worse, so much more real. It was disgusting. 

And suddenly, he felt a sudden strength re-entering his body. Fueled solely by his anger and hatred of this man, Clark stood up and walked stiffly over to Lionel. He grabbed Lex's father by the arm and practically threw him across the room to the doorway. Lionel hit the wall much in the same way Lex had just seconds before, his gun skidding unceremoniously across the floor and out of his reach. 

Almost immediately, Lionel stood back up, brushing off his expensive suit and glaring at them both. Clark tried to look intimidating, though he was not sure how long he could stay upright. The strength was quickly leaving his body again. 

"You still have to be taught. And it is still my responsibility to educate you. Don't think that you'll escape punishment this easily," Lionel threatened. "This isn't over, Lex." 

And with that, he strode out of the room, coattails flying behind him like some kind of overlarge bat, or a vampire from a cheesy old _Dracula_ movie. 

The second Lionel was out of the room, Clark collapsed once again. Lex instantly began to go to his friend's side, but stopped abruptly when he saw the look on Clark's face. His eyes were focused directly in front of him, filled with fear. 

Lex followed Clark's gaze to the box of knives that sat open on the table. Lex almost kicked himself for not realizing what was going on sooner. With all that had just happened, anyone would be scared by the sight of those knives. Holding one hand to his bleeding face, Lex walked over to the table and shut the box. As soon as the knives were out of his sight, Clark calmed visibly. 

Clark got up with an amount of strength that Lex would think to be unnatural for someone who had looked to be in such pain just seconds before. Clark walked over to Lex as he asked, "Did he hurt you?" 

Clark shook his head, throwing his arms around the older man. "Clark," Lex protested as Clark's hands cupped his back, "you're going to get blood on you." 

Clark made no move to pull away. He held Lex tighter, pulling his head back the tiniest bit to place a kiss on Lex's forehead. "We'll find a way to end this. We'll find a way to make this better," Clark said in a sure-sounding whisper. "I promise you, Lex. I'll help you end this." 

The promise lingered heavily in the air of the empty mansion as the two boys stood there in each other's arms. 

* * *

Clark slowly walked into the bedroom where Lex was. He was greeted by the sight of his friend, propped up on at least a dozen pillows, a laptop in front of him. It had been barely a day since their last encounter with Lionel, which had given Lex very little time to heal. Lex was having loads of difficulty typing with just one hand; the other was still bound by his sling. 

"My mom's gonna kill you if she sees you working," Clark said, pulling a chair from the corner of the room to sit next to Lex's bed. "Or I'll kill you. You should be resting." 

Lex smiled - or made his best attempt at it with the wire contraption still holding his broken jawbone together. "Unfortunately, Clark, the world does not stop turning when we want it to. I still have a plant to run, and there is a lot of work to be done yet," Lex replied. "Plus, all this resting is making me exhausted. I have to be doing something." 

He looked over the top of the laptop at Clark, who gave him a weak smile. But it was clear that there were other things on Clark's mind. Confused but curious, Lex closed his laptop to look at his friend. "What is it?" he questioned. 

"We just got a call from LuthorCorp," Clark answered somberly. 

Lex raised his eyebrows. "LuthorCorp?" he repeated incredulously. He almost couldn't believe that his father, even as evil as he was, would call to rub it in so soon. "Why?" 

His eyes even more questioning than his words, he continued to stare at Clark. Clark took a deep breath before speaking. "Your father was supposed to show up for a meeting earlier today. He didn't show up, but he didn't cancel it either. They went to go see him, but he was gone. None of his stuff was missing and no money had been withdrawn from his accounts. He just...disappeared." 

Lex's breath caught in his throat. He was so numb that Clark's words almost didn't register to him. "Disappeared?" he repeated softly, in shock. 

"Yeah. No one knows how, or why." 

Lex took a deep breath to control himself and get in control of his emotions once again. "Do they know whether it was foul play or he left of his own accord?" he questioned, his voice steady again and almost businesslike. 

Clark shook his head. "No one saw him or anyone else near the house, there was no note, and not even his car was gone. It could be either way." 

Lex sighed. This conversation was leaving him with more questions than answers. So far, all he knew was that his father was gone and no one had any idea why, where to, or even if he left of his own free will. He closed his eyes and leaned back into his pile of pillows, trying to block out the all the questions that were flying at him faster than he could process. 

Suddenly, he felt a strong arm wrap around his waist. Clark's arm moved slowly, tentative at first, as if he expected Lex to shy away. But the feel of Clark's hands on him was something that he didn't _want_ to push away, which Clark seemed to realize after a moment. He slid onto the bed as well, pulling Lex's body to his chest. He tightened his hold on Lex slightly, though was careful not to jostle Lex's injured arm. 

Lex leaned back into Clark's embrace as Clark spoke softly into his ear. "But if he didn't leave of his own choice, then that's a good thing right? That means that if someone has him, he can never hurt you again. That you'll be safe from him." 

Lex almost felt that letting his next words escape his lips would jinx it, but he spoke anyway. "Or if he did leave of his own accord, that could mean that he has a new plan of how to get to me - to `teach' me - " Lex corrected bitterly, "and he could just be out there, biding his time until he can do something even worse." 

Clark, who was trying to find a more positive take on the situation, pressed his theory further. "Yeah, but Lex, do you really think that he would leave everything - his money, his company, his _life_ \- just to get back at you for not listening to his lessons?" 

Clark kept his arms reassuringly around Lex. Lex had the urge to say something like `Rage can motivate people to do unexpected things,' but managed to restrain himself for Clark's sake. "I guess," he mumbled instead. 

"I don't understand. What's important is that he's gone. He's out of your life. Why aren't you happier about it?" 

Lex extracted himself from Clark's arms, turning his body to look at the younger man. "I'm sorry that my reaction disappoints you, Clark," he snapped. After all that had happened in the previous few days, Lex had gotten too tired to keep up his well-oiled facade. "But my father is a very powerful and very disturbed man. I can't be calm and happy about it when I know that it's possible that he can still come back. You'd be surprised what my father is capable of." His tone was angry. 

"Lex, don't fight me," Clark said quietly, much in the same way a mother speaks to her toddler. "I'm not the enemy here. Getting upset at me isn't going to make it any different." 

"I know," Lex sighed as Clark began to pull him back into his embrace. Clark's touch was gentle, allowing Lex to pull away if he wanted to. He didn't pull away, and was once again settled back against Clark's broad chest. 

"It's just - well, at the risk of sounding naively needy, I guess I just hoped that somehow things could change. I hoped that we could just become a normal family. I knew, logically, that it could never happen, but it doesn't stop you from hoping, you know?" 

Clark nodded. He didn't actually _know_ , per se, but he understood what Lex meant, and he figured that that was as close as he was really going to get. 

"I guess that every child wants to hear the words `I love you' from their parents, even in a fucked-up family like mine," Lex finished. 

Clark recognized this attempt by Lex to detach himself from the whole situation. He was speaking with the vast generalization of `every child' instead of speaking about himself. Lex talked about the situation as if he was just an observer, though it was clear that _Lex_ was the one that wanted to be loved, though he would never come out and say it. Not after all the bullshit Lionel had fed him about being weak. 

"There'll be someone else to love you, Lex," Clark said surely. 

Lex got the subtle undertones of that sentence, a little helped along by Clark's arms once again tightening around his body. What he was really saying was `I'll be here to love you, Lex.' 

Lex turned his head slightly to look into Clark's green eyes. There was something there that he couldn't quite pinpoint...possibility? hope? need? _love_? What did it matter? 

"At least now, you can get away from your past," Clark said softly, breaking the moment. 

Lex shook his head. "You can never run from your past, Clark, no matter how much you want to. Not even the fastest man in the world can escape the past, because no matter how fast you run, it's still behind you." 

Clark smiled a wide, toothy grin. "You get that from a fortune cookie?" he jested playfully. 

Lex smiled back, leaning further into Clark's chest. "I know this will come as a surprise to you, but fortune cookies do not hold the eternal truth. They don't really have that much insight into life," Lex replied, playing along. 

"Well, I thought maybe your expensive ones..." 

Lex's smile faded slightly. Clark`s joke obviously hadn't went over with Lex the way he had planned. "Just because things are more expensive doesn't mean they're better," Lex said dismally, his expression darkening. 

Clark got the underlying message in that as well as Lex had read his just seconds before. "Lex, I didn't mean..." Clark started. 

Lex cut him off quickly. "It's all right, Clark. Over the past few days, I've learned a lesson even better than I already knew it." 

Clark was almost afraid to ask, but after a second he did. "What?" 

"Money can't buy happiness." 


End file.
